Jedi Legends: The Curse Of Courascant
by QueenYoda
Summary: The fourth installment of the Jedi Legends series. After being viciously uprooted from their home by Darth Vader, the Jedi family must flee for their lives to the one place Sidious will never expect: Courascant, the Sith Order headquarters. Assuming seperate roles in the big city, the Jedi face perils and harmful betrayals that test their former beliefs of justice and honor.
1. Chapter 1

**_Four years after the rise of The Empire:_**

~Anakin's POV~

Anakin had been waiting for a week before Ahsoka arrived to rescue him. In all actuality, it probably had not been the best idea in the universe to fall asleep in his prison cell, but after a week of waiting boredily for Dooku to come in and at least do _something_ with him, a Jedi got bored, training or no.

Anakin Skywalker yawned as his cell shook with the firepower Anakin assumed with which Ahsoka's cruiser was barraging Dooku's vessel. The twenty-seven year old Jedi knight stood, stretching.

This had been quite a nice break, but it was time to get back out there. Anakin leaned against the door, positive that Ahsoka would come to get him soon.

"Bout time, your late as usual, Snips," he grumbled, studying his fingers, hidden underneath black leather gloves. Anakin messed with his fingernails, thinking. _How many hours are in a week, anyway?_ He contemplated.

Partly, that depended on what planet one was on and how fast that planet's rotations went. Or, if one was in space, you just used whatever time the nearest planet used, due to the fact that time and gravity did not exist in space.

_ Good _f_orce,_ Anakin thought, pensive. _I __**must**__ be bored if I'm trying to do math in a cell where rightfully I should still be asleep. Ahsoka's going to be the death of me someday. _

Suddenly, the walls rumbled with another blast. Anakin could hear the sound of blasters, droids, clones and lightsabers coming his way. He smiled as two sabers, one green and the other lime; sliced through his doors and began cutting an oval. _You could have just used the force to open the door you know,_ he sent through their bond.

_ Where's the fun in that?_ Came Ahsoka's strained head voice. The door, once complete, fell apart in the shape of an oval and standing before him was his former apprentice Ahsoka Tano, now twenty years old.

Anakin gave her a stern look. "You're_ late_, Padawan," he drawled, extending his palm for his lightsaber. Ahsoka slapped it into his hand. Anakin nodded his thanks and peeked out of his cell at the chaos that had been wrought on his account. The clones were backing up, shooting wildly at the droid armada that had followed them there.

Through the smoke of blaster ammunition, Anakin heard the buzz of another lightsaber and grinned when he noticed the blue blade of his old master. He hadn't known Obi-wan was coming.

"It's not a party unless I'm late, Sky-guy," Ahsoka panted, also peeking around the corner. She frowned. "The clones have got the droids pinned down. Did you locate Darth Sidious?" She demanded.

Anakin nodded. "Yes, follow me," he ignited his lightsaber and charged back into the halls, calling the force to his side. With the snapping hiss of power, Ahsoka ignited her own weapon and thundered after him swiftly.

The two of them raced across the ship. Anakin had sensed Darth Sidious the second he had arrived on ship, and now he followed the mental trail he had made. It had been three years since he had last seen Darth Sidious, and every breath he had taken since then was a breath dedicated to bringing the vile Sith down. The man who had betrayed his trust and friendship.

"Behind this door," Anakin directed, as he came across the passageway. Ahsoka nodded curtly. "Are you ready?" She asked. Anakin nodded, exchanging a glance with the girl he had trained, his daughter and little sister.

He would die before any harm came to her; but that did not seem to discourage jeopardy from running after Ahsoka like a frenzied lover. "Stay close to me," he ordered her, who, despite all, had already been knighted; they were equals now. Or so to speak.

Ahsoka did not answer, only bounced on her heels in a roll of tensed energy, prepared for battle. Anakin walked up to the door, and knocked politely. The doors slid open, propelled by two droid guards. Ahsoka cut them both down before Anakin could blink.

He rushed into the room. Only to find it empty. Anakin stared, his eyes flicking to and fro, the force dancing in every corner, seeing what he could not, he felt Ahsoka doing the same. "He's gone," the truth. Anakin's fists clenched.

"He can't just have v_anished_," Anakin said, frustrated. He had sat in the cell for a week; and for what? Nothing at all? They had fought a four year war for nothing? No. he wanted this fight to end. No more war.

"I'm afraid he did," oh great, it was Dooku. Ahsoka swiveled around, both lightsabers ready to kill. Anakin did not flinch. He could take Dooku; he needed _Sidious._ Ahsoka sighed. "You, again?" She hissed.

"Where's Sidious, Dooku?" Anakin demanded, turning. He crossed his arms, which earned a cold look from his old enemy. He had not seen nor fought Dooku face-to-face in two years, admittedly, and he assumed that both of them had improved in their skills. Could he just leave Ahsoka here alone, then?

"I'm afraid my master has already escaped," Dooku informed him diplomatically. He unclasped the latch on his cloak, letting it fall to the ground with a flair of drama. Anakin sighed, unimpressed. "I don't have time for you," he growled. Ahsoka smiled amusedly and shook her head at his impatience.

Count Dooku merely shook his head slowly. "I would have thought Master Kenobi would have taught you some _manners_, boy," he sneered. "Oh, he tried," Anakin agreed, ignoring Dooku pointedly, as the Sith advanced on them.

He looked around. How had Sidious gotten out without at least crossing their paths? There must have been a secret door somewhere, but where? "And failed," Ahsoka added cheerfully. Dooku stopped, his eyes flicking from Anakin to Ahsoka with annoyance.

"I see. Well, since you have no time for me, might you have time for them?" Dooku asked, gesturing to the ceiling. On cue, a dozen magna guards, Dooku's chosen bodyguards, flipped down from the ceiling, staffs ready and buzzing. Anakin ignited his saber at once. Now the stakes were higher.

_ Obi-wan,_ he called through the force as he crouched defensively, lightsaber up. _Sidious is somewhere running loose. Dooku has me and Ahsoka penned up here._ _Try to find him, will you? I'll catch up with you as soon as I cut Dooku down to shape,_ he called as Ahsoka ran forward, clashing sabers with three of the magna guards. Anakin attacked the other three himself.

_ No time for that, Anakin. We have to leave immediately. Dooku is distracting you. We're being swamped by droids, _came the calm, accented reply. Anakin huffed, accepting this, ducking a quick jab to the head.

Then he hissed in pain as an electro-staff swept him off his feet. He pushed the droid away with the force, glancing over at the spot Dooku had been in a second ago. The Sith was gone.

"Ahsoka!" He yelled over to her. She was doing better than him; the blasted girl. Anakin rolled to his feet, and quickly cut down the droid in front of him. "Snips, we've got to leave now, our forces are retreating," he called. Ahsoka shared his look of frustration; this mission had failed.

"Time to leave? About time, I wanted to leave when I got here," she answered though, keeping the frustration in her heart carefully guarded. Anakin had to smile at her maturity. He turned, wondering if they could take the ship, while they were at it.

He was not willing to accept total defeat, not yet. He raised his comm. Link to his lips. "Rex," he snapped to his captain. "Where are you?" He asked. "Near the west wing hangar, sir. We've been pushed back," came the instant reply. Anakin thought a moment, that wasn't too far away from the bridge, since the Sith had abandoned ship….

"Belay that course," he ordered. "Me and Ahsoka are going to take the ship," he ducked against the magna-guards slash and spun around, hacking off its head. The droid came back, unlike most other mechanically controlled figures; magna guards didn't actually need their heads.

"We're_ what_?" Ahsoka demanded. "Taking the ship," Anakin repeated as he parried the magna-guards attack. "Sir," Rex argued. "We're outnumbered!" He reminded Anakin.

The Jedi rolled his eyes. "As if we've never been outnumbered before. I mean to take this ship, Captain. Get your troops up there, we'll focus on the droids once we're in control of the bridge," he said.

"As you say, general," Rex sighed. Ahsoka cut down their last attacker before giving Anakin her signature: _'You're a reckless, unorthodox idiot, you know that right?' _look. "Don't look at me that way," Anakin scolded, putting his saber back on his belt. He glanced up.

"You take the vents," he planned. "And meet me up there. I'll gather Rex and help them plow through," he said. Ahsoka sighed, shaking her head, but without a word, used the force to rip open the vent head above her and jumped into it obediently. Anakin spun on his heel and ran out of the door, headed straight for his troops.

_ I'll get you one day, Sith spit,_ he vowed to Sidious, bitterly. Three years of war, and he wanted it to end. He had had enough. "Anakin," his comm. link sighed in Obi-wan's exasperated and unhappy tone. "What in the blazes do you suppose you're doing?" He asked.

Anakin only kept running. "What's that, master? Sorry, but I can't hear past the cranky, accented, commanding barve trying to lecture me," he replied snappishly.

"Very funny," Obi-wan intoned dryly. "And I wasn't trying to lecture you. I was on the _verge _of lecturing you," Anakin rolled his eyes, but he had to smile. "And I ask you again, what are you doing?" Obi-wan asked.

"Taking the bridge, what are _you_ doing?" Anakin answered cheerfully as he quickly cut down too unawares droids. "Anakin, we're outnumbered…" Obi-wan began. "Between you, me and Ahsoka I'm sure we'll handle that problem with ease," Anakin interrupted as he heard the faint vibration of a skirmish. His guess was that it was Rex.

"Do you even have a_ plan_?" Obi-wan demanded. "I have an outline of a plan, does that count?" Anakin wondered. "You know it doesn't," Obi-wan huffed, as if he had not heard Anakin's sarcasm.

Anakin turned the corner and found himself in the middle of droids and clones, as he had so many times before. In a flash, he had whipped out his saber.

At the start of the Clone War he had gone out of his way to destroy all of the droids, force knew he could, but that exerted energy quickly, and in the Clone War, the chances of getting killed or hurt were slimmer. Anakin had learned quickly. He deflected bolts, slowly moving forward.

The clones followed as Obi-wan went on with his lecture. "Something tells me your mind is firmly set on creating this chaos?" Obi-wan wondered disapprovingly. "Yep," Anakin grunted, flicking his wrist in an uncomfortable motion in order to save Blazer from certain death.

"You're just angry Sidious escaped without a fight, aren't you?" Of course he was. That still wasn't the point. A moment of silence from the other end before Obi-wan sighed theatrically. "_Fine,_ since you're determined to cause me more gray hairs, what do you need me to do?"

That was the answer Anakin had been waiting for. "At the moment? Keep chopping down droids. Let's see if we can get the odds evened out a bit," he said as they neared the bridge doors.

Suddenly, said doors opened and a single magna guard fell into the aisle, chopped into seven different pieces. Ahsoka Tano stood in the entryway, hands on her hips. Upon noticing the droids Anakin and his troops had yet to destroy, she dashed into the fight, moving so swiftly that Anakin saw a mere blur where she had once been.

"Good to see ya, Snips," he breathed once the last droid had fallen. He paced to the bridge. "All the droids destroyed?" He inquired. Ahsoka nodded, following on his heels. "Only _you_ would be able to almost single-handedly take a Sith cruiser in less than twenty minutes, master," she sighed, her voice partly amused and partly admiring. Anakin winked at her.

"Just doing what I do, old friend. Come on, men," he gestured to the troops behind him, all of whom were frankly unsurprised. The clones jogged after Anakin, pushing the destroyed droids from their seats and took their places at the controls.

Anakin grinned, walking down the narrow walking board to look out at the Rebel ships firing at them. "Order your ships to stand down," he instructed.

Ahsoka turned away, doing that. Anakin raised his comm. link to his lips. "Obi-wan, Ahsoka and I have taken the bridge, what's your status?" He requested. "Oh, Anakin, there you are," Anakin swiveled around to see Obi-wan Kenobi walk unto the bridge, his lightsaber put away and confident swagger still in place. He grinned. Following Obi-wan was his right hand man, Commander Cody, and the rest of the clones.

"You took down all the droids already?" Anakin asked, feigning surprise. Obi-wan cocked an eyebrow as if Anakin had offended him in some way.

"Of course, Anakin, you don't suppose you learned your resourceful courage from _Qui-gon_, do you?" He snorted. Anakin chuckled and shook his head as two of his best friends joined him staring at the stars.

"Well, we didn't fail completely," said the youngest of them, professionally. "There's a positive way to look at it," Anakin agreed. Obi-wan remained silent, deep in thought. Anakin glanced casually over, making sure Obi-wan's eyes were still the standard blue. They were.

"Why wouldn't Sidious stay?" Obi-wan muttered suddenly, the gears in his mind churning. "He had us outnumbered, and with all three of us momentarily busy, he could have easily captured all of us, which would be a bonus for him. And he could have come in and tried to entice you anytime during the week, Anakin. Or did he try?" Anakin shook his head, wondering where Obi-wan was going with this. "Then he abandoned ship, even though he had us outnumbered," Obi-wan stroked his beard, brows crinkled in concentration.

"Not really," Ahsoka pointed out. "We brought three cruisers, remember? Sidious knew we'd take over eventually," she pointed out. Obi-wan shook his head. "But why not capture us before he made his escape? Something about this doesn't add up," he considered.

Anakin was tempted to wave away the threat, but he had learned that usually Obi-wan had a way of predicting the future with his cunning. "It does us no good to try and guess the aspirations of a Sith madman now. We should focus on the victory at hand," he reminded Obi-wan tactfully. That earned him a rolling of the eyes from Ahsoka and a proud grin from Obi-wan, who set a hand on his shoulder.

"Indeed, my old apprentice. I've taught you well if you're teaching_ me_ now," he chuckled. Anakin crossed his arms, not meeting the eyes, which he knew, underneath the blue, were really blind. It still gave him a pang. Neither of them would ever forgive Bruck for what he had done.

"Someone has to," he pointed out as Rex walked up. "Sir, what should we do now?" His first in command questioned. Anakin smiled, this was almost the exact picture of the Clone Wars, the deadly but much more lenient war before the Sith War. And it had the same characters. Just him, Ahsoka and Obi-wan against the universe.

How things had changed.

"Jump into hyperspace, Rex," Ahsoka ordered, smiling in remembrance. "We're going home," Anakin nodded in agreement as Rex jogged off, perfectly content with his lot in life. "How things have changed," Obi-wan muttered, as Anakin knew he would eventually. The three stared at each other, grinned, and looked back out the window.

How things had changed.

* * *

I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm back! Warning: in the midst of me writing this story, it took on a life of its own and suddenly I wasn't doing anything but punching in the words, servant to it's command. It's one of the seven wonders of the world for a writer to create a story, but altogether magnificent when the story creates _the writer_ like this one has me.

~Queen Yoda


	2. the unknown

~Dooku's POV~

_ "Incredible, this is," Yoda said, cradling the small child in his arms. The Jedi master looked up to his apprentice and scowled. "See what I do, do you?" he questioned, severely._

_ Yan blinked and shook his head. He did not want to displease his master, but force, what was there to see? It was a baby. _

_ Yoda was forever fascinated by the smallest things, he could get fascinated by __**tea**__ if the circumstances called for it._ _What was so wonderful about any of it? It was there. Wonderful. They shouldn't take it for granted. So what? _

_ "No, master," he replied, earnestly._ _Yoda sighed deeply and handed the baby back to master Shikra, who only smiled at him gently. "Have mercy upon him, master Yoda," she suggested in her quiet yet soothing voice. "He is young yet, and at his age, I didn't see what was so wonderful about children either," she winked at Yan, and he felt a smile tug at his lips. _

_ He ducked his head to hide it. He didn't like to be caught smiling too often. It suggested too much, and people told him that when he smiled, he looked cold and unfeeling. So he preferred to frown, like Mater Windu. _

_ "And then I actually held one, on one of my missions," Master Shikra looked down at the baby in her arms and stood, smiling. Her expression was so tender and filled with warmth that Yan felt something in his heart stir. _

_ What was it? He did not know the definition. But he knew the word. Satisfaction.  
_

_ "They're the future, Padawan, and aren't they beautiful?" She looked up, a grin of perfect happiness on her face. She looked like a woman, who, despite the fact that she never left the temple, never experienced victory or felt the pride of having brought justice, had found her place within the ranks of the Jedi. She was where she belonged now. And she had found peace there. _

_ Yan felt another burst of envy._ _He wanted to find his place, too. _

Somehow, Count Dooku felt as if it weren't here, amongst the Sith. He had been given power, revenge and contentment, but not happiness, not belonging. He did not know what those words meant anymore; they had died when the light inside of him had.

He had left the Jedi nearly a decade before, and still he did not feel any happier than he had felt as a Jedi. _A necessary sacrifice,_ he told himself, gruffly. _I have more power than any Jedi could hope to have. If I must forfeit happiness in order to have that, then I have bargained neatly,_ he decided.

Count Dooku let out an eloquent sigh and stood, feeling the creak of old bones. The Dark Side ate at a person, both emotionally and physically.

"Darth Tyrannous," oh. Brilliant. It was him again, his old master who he had once been devoted too. He had once gratified Sidious's teachings, and reveled in the power that had been contracted by the older man. Now that he had that power, he despised the once chancellor.

And he knew, deep down, that it was because Sidious had turned him into something that he had not been before. He didn't know what he had been before; he could not remember.

Somehow, he hated Sidious for not granting him what he most craved, what Sidious had convinced him came only with the Dark Side: fulfillment.

He was still empty, and he sometimes wondered if perhaps the Jedi had the key to what he wanted. But it was too late, he had power. That was all that counted. "My master," he replied as he put his comm. link to his lips, sneering out the title. Sidious was painfully unaware of his hatred.

The foolish man still believed Dooku was his loyal pet dog. Dooku was in line to show him the truth. Many Sith were. They refused to be slaves.

"Our sample is ready, we need you for the procedure," and another thing, why this obsession with Skywalker? The boy was a disobedient, trivial boy, not worth all the attention and resources being spent on his behalf, despite his lot in some ancient prophecy.

"I am on my way, master," but whatever Sidious wanted, he got. Dooku dared not contravene him. With a sigh, the once Jedi stood and walked out of his room, majestic, powerful, fiercely fit for a king, but so utterly empty. Like his heart.

* * *

_Two weeks later:_

~Obi-wan's POV~

The day began better than it had in months, or _years_, to be precise. Obi-wan felt his eyelids flutter open by some internal, mental clock that always told his body when to wake and sleep.

As usual, his mind took a maximum of three seconds to fully cooperate. As he lifted his head from his pillow, a long list of things he was tasked with having to do that day flashed before his eyes.

He lifted his head more and looked around, seeing the customary pure darkness of nothing that he always saw when he relied on his real eyes. A year earlier, he had gone blind in both eyes by way of torture. An eternal month he had spent in pain and torment. He still had nightmares about it, yet it was over. Bruck was dead. He was alive yet.

Still, no one knew about his blindness but a few people, for a blind man could never be a Jedi. And for that, he was a traitor.

"Brooding this early in the morning, my love?" He froze. He had not noticed the other person in the room with him, and tuned into his senses. Next to him was a white blob, shaped like a woman's body.

He recognized the intriguing scent of autumn leaves and summer flowers. The white bob fairly glowed with force power. "Nava?" He gasped; noting that this person had not been in bed with him last night when he had fallen asleep. His suspicion was proved correct when petite, soft lips captured his own.

At once, the morning seemed brighter, better and his body relaxed with unfamiliar relaxation and love. "Good morning," Nava breathed once they had broken apart, him still shirtless in bed beside her and she still in her nightclothes.

"When did you get home?" Obi-wan asked, turning towards her. He propped himself up on one elbow, delighted to see her. It had been weeks.

"Early this morning," Nava yawned, gently stroking his arm adoringly. He could feel her beautiful purple/blue eyes resting on him, and almost see her chocolate skin beside him. He yearned to see her expression, her delicate nose and heart-shaped mouth.

Obi-wan frowned; he sensed one thing there, even if he could not see her lovely features. He raised a hand and ran it along the side of her neck, tracing new scar. Nava giggled and took his hand away. "And where did _that _come from?" he inquired worriedly.

"It's a small scar," Nava assured him quickly. "I got it from some Sith scum who attacked us on our way back to the cruiser a few days ago. I didn't even feel it," she said.

"Hmm," he mumbled, feeling worry knag at him. Nava could very well take care of herself without his services, in fact, he was the one who usually needed _her_ assistance, but this war brought them all great pain. "You worry too much, you old weasel," Nava informed him as he took her hand in his, squeezing.

His eyes narrowed, he had not changed them back into the standard blue they had been before, and Anakin had told him he looked quite formidable when he narrowed his blind eyes at someone.

"I'm fine! Really. If I weren't; I promise I'd… wait, don't do… Blast it, Obi-wan!" She hissed as he moved apart the covers and scowled at the scar he sensed running down her ribs. It started just below the left breast and continued down her ribs to the bottom half of her stomach.

"If you weren't fine, you promise you would… What, now?" Obi-wan asked; his concern growing as he put a hand on top of the cloth of her night gown and found it was sticky with dried blood.

"You know what? Never mind. It's just a minor cut, I already stitched it up myself," yes, and he was twenty-five again. It would be nice if it were true, but alas, it was also impossible.

"No arguments. You're going to the med-bay, Nava," he said, not available for debate. "Ah, come on, Obi," Nava appealed, leaning in. She put her hands on his chest and started circling his torso with one finger. His heart skipped a beat. He smiled.

"Nice try," very nice try, actually; because she was walking an awfully thin line. "But you're still going to the med-bay. Come on, might as well get it out of the way now, my dear. And before the day begins, I have a whole list of things I could be doing presently," he told her, trying to sound stern.

His stern demeanor vanished when her finger traced a sensitive spot under his collarbone. He was stuck between wanting to laugh at her attempt or tackle her down and submit. Force _blast _hormones.

He sighed and grabbed both her wrists. "Can't we just stay in here today?" Nava asked. Without her hands, she switched to manipulation attempt number two: she laid her head against him, making sure he could feel the curve of her body beside his.

He was losing this battle, sadly, but he had one trick left.

"You're going," he said again, forcefully, as he circled her leg and began tickling the back of one knee. Nava jerked in vulnerable ticklishness. "Barve," she growled, trying to twist her leg away. Obi-wan shrugged nonchalantly and switched to tickling her under the arms. Nava snorted in helplessness and wiggled. Obi-wan tucked her against him.

"Do you still wish to remain in here?" He questioned slyly. "You can't just… This is so not…Oh, blast, Obi-wan, stop it. Stop, that's a tickle spot you blasted… Obi-wan!" she buried her face against him, laughing as his fingers danced on her skin rapidly.

"Okay, okay! I'll go! You blasted… Okay, okay. Never mind, I'm done. Just stop it, please," he obliged, releasing her to allow her free access to the med-bay herself. She slipped out of bed, eager to get away from him.

Obi-wan grinned, thinking about how fast roles had been changed. "Would you like an escort?" he asked slyly as Nava smacked his arm in mild retribution.

He allowed her. "Meaning you? Absolutely not. As soon as these medics get done poking at me, I'm on my way to find Padme so I can complain about you to her," Obi-wan chuckled.

"Very well. I'll see whenever," because having lived as long as they had, both knew that at any minute Nava could be called away, or even Obi-wan, on another ill-fated mission. And due to the fact that was named _war_, the chances were very high that one day, one of them would not come back to the other. These were things they had acknowledged however, and had accepted.

They were Jedi.

"See you whenever," Nava replied over her shoulder, now fully dressed as she sauntered out of the room, hips swinging peevishly at the act he had committed. Obi-wan chuckled and stood himself; resuming his inventory of his mental list. He used the force to grab his shirt and hurried to the refresher.

Many people did not understand the need for cleanliness, or his insistent nagging on personal hygiene. Anakin, for one, absolutely adored to tease him for his apparent spotlessness, which immediately marked him as having some sort of disorder.

Nevertheless, for people like him, who had lived through weeks without changing clothes, feeling the sticky nostalgia of blood and dirt caked all over one's body, not sparing any crevice in its dirty wrath, and ached for any sort of water or just something to feel clean and new again, it was _important_. It marked your body as a temple, instead of just a dispensable resource. Nava understood.

Just as quickly, though, Obi-wan stepped out of his shower and dried himself off. He breathed in the chilled air, so different from the atmosphere that he had just been breathing, in the warmly misted bathroom.

His lightsaber flew to his hand, nudged by the force, when a knock came at his door. Before Obi-wan could call for that person to come in, as was polite and custom for most people, Anakin strolled in casually, disregarding both civility and expected etiquette.

"Mornin', brothem," he chirped affectionately as he flung himself out unto Obi-wan's bed, thoroughly mussing his neatly made covers.

Obi-wan sighed and crossed his arms, glaring. On cue, another head poked in, this time with long head-tails and a female body. "Morning, master," Ahsoka added, in her former master's similar tone as she flung herself next to Anakin. Obi-wan watched the ritual helplessly. These two had done this to him since…

Forever.

"Aren't you _both_ getting a bit too old for this?" Obi-wan wondered as he stood over them. "For what? You don't even know what we want yet," Anakin pointed out, defensively. Obi-wan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why can't you make your own breakfast by now?" He demanded of his own former apprentice as Anakin took one of Obi-wan's fluffy pillows and laid it behind his head as if he were the king himself. Bigheaded whelp.

"I wasn't going to ask for breakfast," Ahsoka harrumphed at him, disapproving of his assumption. "I already got Rex to make me some. I was going to ask you to make me some of your sweet tea," she told him. Obi-wan felt his mouth quirk up in a smile. "_I_ want breakfast," Anakin put in, complaining.

"Maybe some eggs and pancakes. Technically, there is no reason why we couldn't just call it lunch. Goodness knows I'm not getting some today anyway," Anakin reflected. Ahsoka tittered. Obi-wan allowed his smile to break through. "I am _not_ a maid," he informed both of them.

"No," Anakin agreed, sounding most sure of this. "You're just nice. You won't say no, Obi-wan, so you might as well get to it," Spoiled little monster. "Please, master? No one makes tea like you do!" Ahsoka, the gentler of the two, appealed. Obi-wan groaned. "Don't flatter him, Yoda makes tea three times better than he does," Anakin snorted, rebuking her.

Obi-wan chuckled as Ahsoka hit Anakin in the face with a pillow loyally. "I suppose you aren't getting breakfast, then. Come, Ahsoka, I'll show you how to make it, so that you can stop coming to me," Obi-wan suggested. Ahsoka nodded and bounded out energetically. Obi-wan felt a creak in his bones at just watching her.

"She's still so young," he marveled. "Makes me feel like I'm Yoda's thrice senior," he mumbled. "Aren't you?" Anakin piped up, distantly, as he lazily levitated a pillow above his head. Obi-wan used the force to stuff it down on his face.

"Ugghh!" Anakin protested in a laugh as he snatched the accessory away from his head. "Why are _you_ here, anyways? Usually you skip breakfast-not that I approve- or get Padme to make it. And where are the twins?" Obi-wan demanded. "You have a lot of questions," Anakin observed boredily. "_Anakin_…"

"Yah, yah, sheesh, old friend, don't carp so much. You're as bad as said wife, whose currently dealing with some meddlesome business marketers. I offered to go and be a threat standing behind her, but she only laughed and said that she could be a threat all be herself," Obi-wan nodded, assenting to this statement. Padme could be very frightening when she wanted to be.

"A certain Bonteri boy insisted on taking Luke and Leia today, I know he's teaching them how to shoot a blaster, though he says that he's only showing them around the base and teaching them about codes and stuff. I _know_ he is, poor sneak. So, they're safe, and I decided I'd come and bother you. By the way, Nava was heading to the med-bay, is she alright?" Obi-wan nodded, feeling more relaxed now that he knew Anakin's family was well under care.

"Fine. She just has a rather large cut that she attempted to hide from me on her ribs. I convinced her to get it checked at the med-bay," Anakin nodded, assured that his substitute mother was safe and not on her death bed, as she often tried so hard to be in, Obi-wan was convinced.

"Good. Now. Make me some breakfast? I don't have anything to do for another half hour," Anakin proposed again. "Oh, no," Obi-wan said, turning to head out the door. "I have tea to show your apprentice how to make, and then I have things that require _my_ attention," he stated, dutifully.

"Oh, come on, master! Please! Obi-wan, brother, just a little pancake?" The whine in his voice reminded Obi-wan so much of Anakin's childhood that he laughed, knowingly defeated.

"Get up, you lazy oaf, and come on then," he called as he opened the door. Anakin hopped out of bed and tracked him happily, chatting away despite the early morning; Obi-wan could swear that Anakin was akin to the child Ahsoka was.

Then again, so was he, if he was still giving in to this. By now, he should know better. Anakin seemed to pick up his thoughts, and laughed, laying a hand on Obi-wan's shoulder.

"I'll always be a youngling to you," yes, that was true. And since it was so true, this was just yet another morning in the life of a Jedi Master during wartime.


	3. Premonitions

~Intrepid's POV~

"Do Anakin and Padme know that you're teaching their children to shoot people?" Intrepid queried, watching as Luke aimed his small hand pistol at the wooden target board.

Leia appeared to be bored with the exercise, whereas Luke was exhilarated. They were so different; Leia was more of Anakin's personality and temper, yet she had the interests of Padme. Luke was more of Padme's personality and temper, but had the interests of Anakin.

Oh, how great was the mind of a child.

Lux Bonteri, once a Separatist and now a Rebel leader whom Intrepid trusted with her life, smiled down at his pupils proudly. "Anakin has an idea," he confessed, without any remorse at all.

"Padme has no clue, and I want to keep it that way. They are going to need this one day if they are to be raised with Jedi," said Lux, ever knowing about what it was like to live with Jedi. "_As _Jedi," Intrepid corrected him, walking up to stand beside Lux.

"As Jedi," Lux agreed, shifting feet casually. Intrepid sensed the energy curled inside him and glanced up at the sky, lately blue with oncoming summer.

Winter had given way, without regret or hesitation for spring, and now summer appeared to have been coming early, Intrepid welcomed it. Summer brought fields of beautiful flowers and sweets delivered from the nearby town market. Summer reminded her of Nava; lively, warm and wise.

"Look, Lux-Lux!" Luke called as he bucked backwards, thrown by the force of the blaster. He giggled; fascinated by the small jerks he was taking backward at each shot he made, thrown by the power of his small weapon.

"Take aim, Luke," Lux called, kindly but forcefully. "Don't waste that fire power. Remember that the soldiers use them," Luke nodded and aimed again. Leia, who was shooting continuously, bored with the mechanical exercise, cast a listless look in their direction and yawned. "She'll be a politician alright, a peacekeeper for sure," Lux clucked sympathetically.

"With that temper of hers? Good force," Intrepid shuddered. Lux laughed and shook his head. "It's going to be a new Republic, Intrepid! And besides, maybe a bit of back talking would do the Senate of the future some good. It would have saved The Senate before," well, she could hardly argue with that point.

Had someone spoken up in the corrupt atmosphere of the old senate, they may not have been fighting their current war, a hard ball of old resentment towards government molded in her gut.

She huffed and crossed her arms, looking down. Her head tails buzzed with irritation. If only someone had piped up, she would not have had everything taken away. Why hadn't anyone said a _thing_?

"No one knew how to say it," Lux nearly whispered, again proving why he was one of her best friends. He could read her blasted mind, force power or no. She nodded and looked up, only to meet deep brown eyes, fatigued and furious with past failures. She gave a single nod, and he returned it, neither knowing what exactly they had just communicated, but sure that they had.

"What are you two doing with Anakin's twins?" A distraught voice demanded from behind them. Intrepid turned and grinned to see Ahsoka Tano, her oldest friend.

"Ahsoka!" She said excitedly, grasping Ahsoka's hands in her own. Ahsoka's azure eyes, so different from her emerald ones, brightened in her face with delight; they had not seen each other in weeks. "Hay, Tano," Lux greeted warmly, walking up. "You're back. Was your mission successful?" Intrepid asked as Ahsoka turned and squeezed Lux's shoulder in hello.

"Partly," Ahsoka sighed. "Anakin is unscathed. Sidious and Dooku escaped, but no worries, we stole their ship," she reported. Lux snorted in amusement.

Intrepid sighed; why would they steal the…? No, never mind. She did not want to know. "Wonderful," she groaned. "A stolen ship. That'll put us in beautiful records with the Sith," She scolded. "They hate us already," Lux countered with a wave of his hand.

"Have you heard anything more from our spies?" He wondered of Ahsoka, she shook her head solemnly and glanced at the twins. "Luke, Leia, aren't you going to give me my hug!?' She demanded loudly.

The twins, who had been preoccupied, looked up, and both faces brightened into luminous flowers of glee. "Soka!" They screamed, dropping their weapons and raising across the grass to Ahsoka. The Jedi knight knelt to catch them in her arms and hold them close, as if they were her own little siblings.

Intrepid felt like it, at times. She felt as if they were all connected, and related by something that was beyond and better than blood. Mayhap they were; mayhap all Jedi were filial, for these were _strange_ times. Intrepid grinned contentedly, a feeling that was so rare and cherished on the battlefield.

How things had changed.

* * *

_** A month later:**_

~Sidious's POV~

The advances of science and technology were quite helpful at times, when useless at some others. Darth Sidious thought on this as he watched the creature he had trained before him.

It had taken two weeks for him to grow in his tube, and this much time for the Sith apprentice to complete his training. He was as strong in the force as Anakin Skywalker himself. The Sith's own _Chosen One_.

Darth Sidious chuckled and pressed the intercom button as his creation flung ten Sith-including that fool, Dooku- off his back with surprising strength. His anger and fear, force, it was so _sweet_… His creature was so strong.

"Cease this training for now, Darth Tyrannous," he ordered the man who had once been his apprentice. Now Dooku was a mere pawn, as all below him were. He knew that some wished to rebel, knew that Dooku was waiting patiently for a chance to strike. Sidious already had a plan brewing for the insurrectionists.

"I believe our comrade is ready. Come forth, my friend," _my new son_.

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

_ He was trapped. Inside of something tight, dry and restricting. Hard, cold metal made hot by his breath was stuck to his skin, which tingled unpleasantly and seared with sizzling pain. _

_ There was something in front of his eyes, like the glasses Obi-wan had let him wear once when he was twelve, but these glasses were not clear or thin, but thick and red. Everything in front of him was red for some reason. _

_ It hurt to breathe, not that his breathing sounded exactly good, it was coming out in rasping, harsh breaths that filled the whole room with the sound of the air in his lungs._

_ He hated this…. This suit. This metal prison. He wanted out; he wanted to feel something besides hot metal. To feel Obi-wan putting a hand on his shoulder and giving a comforting, warm squeeze or Padme's affectionate, loving lips on his, or the feel of Ahsoka's muscular shoulder under his real hand. He wanted to feel family, his family. Where were they? _

_ Oh, yes, they had all betrayed him. especially Obi-wan, his master...His master had left him to burn, to die on Mustafar. He had ignored Anakin's pleas and taken away his 'Jedi hand of justice' when it was most needed, needed by the man who once would have jumped into the lava itself to save Obi-wan if their roles had been reversed. _

_ Still; Padme, he could not lose Padme. He needed to find her, if she wanted Obi-wan then he would kill Obi-wan, eliminate the competition. It would not be pretty, and it would be __**agony**__ to kill the father he never had. _

_ He would make it quick, perhaps get one of the clones to do it, and he couldn't watch. No, he couldn't. Not Obi-wan. And Ahsoka? Well, she was still young; she could still be trained to use the Dark Side. _

_ He felt his body being moved up by some odd force, what was that? He was on a table of some sort, obviously. He was being shifted upright. Then he saw a face, shadowed in red. A familiar face, Obi-wan? Oh, no, his rightful master, his real friend, Palpatine. _

_ He would know where Padme was, he would protect her and Ahsoka. He groaned in pain as he staggered forward, forcing one foot in front of the other. He hated this suit, it kept him inside, he could barely breathe, he could barely think or walk. He missed the freedom of his own skin; he missed the fluidness of his Jedi training. He missed Padme._

_ Gasping for breath, he turned to his master. "Master," he rasped out. Was that his voice? It could not be. He sounded like Grievous. "Where's Padme?" He went on. His friend looked down somberly. Anakin felt his heart speed up. "Is she alright?" He pressed. His new master looked up with cold eyes._

_ "It seems," he growled. "That in your rage, you," he looked away for a moment. "Killed her," he finished. Anakin felt himself fall back as if he had been slapped. Killed her? Padme, his angel, his love, and he had killed her, and the baby? No, No! He couldn't have. _

_ "I..." He gasped. "I could not have! She was alive, I felt it!" Palpatine only shook his head. Unbelievable, unconceivable grief engulfed him. It was as if he were on fire all over again. _**_"NO!" _**

Anakin's eyes snapped open with a click. His chest heaved with guttural breaths and sweat had formed a slick film on his forehead. Yet he was paralyzed with blurred fear.

He realized what he had just seen. It had been a forewarning of him going to the Dark Side, and it had been from..From what? What had the metal suit been for? Why had he killed _Padme_? How could he have done that to her? To the twins? To _everyone?_ No. No. It couldn't have been…

A premonition?

Anakin remained in bed; his muscles were tense and gaunt. The other side of the bed was empty; Padme was working late again. Anakin stared at the ceiling and wondered if that dream-force, he hoped it had only been a dream- had been brought about by the force: there was a disturbance in his gift, all around him.

He could feel it as if it was an itch in the back of his throat, a tingle of apprehension. He could sense the anxiety floating from the others as they felt it, too. _Was it a dream?_ He gulped. _Or a premonition?_ He rolled over, thinking it over until dawn, when the call that would change his life forever came.


	4. Vader

_**Later:**_

"Yes," Nava sighed, sitting before Anakin at the bar, a cup of tea in her hands. She crossed her legs and eyed him with worried eyes hidden above a bright yet weary smile.

Beside her, his wife, Padme Amidala sat, watching Anakin languorously. Behind them, running all throughout the kitchen and house as usual, was a hustle and bustle of Rebel Alliance hordes.

"I sensed it too. This force disturbance has us all on edge," she agreed, sipping her tea with debonair. "What do you suppose it could be?" Padme wondered. "Something bad," Anakin groaned, remembering his nightmare. "We can only hope it isn't something_ too_ horrible," Nava contemplated.

"Anakin," he looked up to see Lux elbowing his way towards them. "Who'd you shoot?" Nava and Anakin demanded in unison. Padme looked up in bafflement. Lux grinned and shook his head, struggling to work against the crowd. None of them raised a finger to help him, fighting crowds was hazardous work.

"No one, thankfully. Obi-wan sent me to tell you that the council requests your presence, Anakin," Lux told him, before the crowd's momentum forced him to vanish back into the throng.

Anakin grimaced and Padme sighed. "_Another_ mission? You just returned home," she said. "I don't think this is about a mission," Anakin mumbled, the force was trying to say something; he could feel it.

"I sense it, too," Nava agreed, confusedly setting her jaw. She glanced at Padme, who shared the look. They communicated through eyes a moment, sharing strength, wisdom, experience or whatever else women tended to share in those little looks of theirs.

Anakin shook his head and pushed himself forward, he could not leave the council waiting. "I'll come tell you if it is a mission," he promised Padme, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. He squeezed Nava's hand, the only mother he had, and ran to the communications room.

When he arrived, he was astounded to find that the room, which was normally overflowing with people, was evacuated this time, Obi-wan stood alone before the transmitter, stroking his beard.

The other council members loomed above him in holo-graphic form, expressions grave. Anakin wondered what he had done this time. "Masters," he greeted quickly as he stood before them, eyes sharp.

Obi-wan was staring forward, as if deep in thought. Anakin knew that the real reason he was not looking at the others directly was in due to the fact that he could not _see_ the holo-grams, which carried no force signature and thus eluded his force-sight. Anakin wondered if Obi-wan was aware that they were even there.

_ Look up, master,_ Anakin commanded through the bond, quickly. Obi-wan obeyed, casually, as Master Yoda began speaking. "Master Skywalker, notice anything different, did you, when captured you were?" The Jedi master asked him penetratingly.

Anakin was taken aback by the question. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with any incident that would fit the description 'different'. Technically, getting captured by Sith at all would fit a standard person's very idea of _different_. Yet through long years of fighting, it had become routine for Anakin. "That could be a long list," he observed shrewdly.

"But for one, neither Dooku nor Sidious came down to say or do anything the week I was in their imprisonment," the council members exchanged puzzled glances. Considering Sidious's fixation with Anakin, that was the oddest thing he had said so far.

Anakin ran a hand through his hair, thinking deeper. What else had struck him as odd? "And another thing," he realized. "I fell asleep," that got the attention of everyone, scandalized and censorious eyes already reprimanding him for his negligence.

"I didn't want too, and looking back at it, that isn't something I would usually do. I know how dangerous it is," he assured them wryly. "Only I couldn't seem to help myself, as if…." His shoulders slumped. How could he have been so stupid? He should have seen that! It's the oldest trick in the kriffing _book_. "As if they drugged me," he cursed hotly.

"That makes sense," said Obi-wan thoughtfully. "Place an invisible gas in the cell and they would have him out-cold and vulnerable. And then Sidious and the ostentatious Count abandoned a perfectly good ship, crew and all, without even so much as a fight," he came to that point again. Anakin nodded, affirming this.

The council members scowled, and a tense silence followed. "What's this all about?" Anakin finally questioned, glancing at Mace, who was studying Anakin frankly. Another worried glance passed between them.

_ Do you know what's going on?_ Anakin asked Obi-wan, through the force. _No clue,_ Obi-wan assured him, with a smidge of concern. Then, hesitantly, he asked: _You didn't do anything wrong, did you?_

_ If I did, I had no clue,_ Anakin replied with amusement. "We've been getting strange reports and footage from our spies and soldiers on the field," Master Shaak Ti finally hastened to explain to them.

"Of _what,_ exactly?" Obi-wan wondered. "A new Sith," wonderful. That just_ made_ Anakin's day right there.

"Here, this…Footage should speak all else," Mace told them cautiously. Anakin's bad feeling grew. Immediately, recordings of a Sith appeared, and he was killing civilians in a village. Anakin stared at the film with utter puzzlement.

It was him.

_What are we looking at?_ Obi-wan asked through the bond. Anakin imagined all he could hear was the screams of the innocent people. He, for one, was wondering the same thing.

_ Me,_ he answered shortly, staring, trying to figure out what sick reason the council had for doing this to him. _You? Why? Is it… Anakin, is it the sand-people?_ Obi-wan asked, sudden dread coloring his tone. Anakin sent him a mental picture instead of explaining, touched by the worry Obi-wan displayed.

_ Oh, _Obi_-_wan said, at last, with mild relief. _Who's that?_ "Why are we looking at me?" Anakin wondered aloud, uneasily. This wasn't footage of the sand-people, so what was this? It was certainly not him.

"It isn't you," Mace informed him, sounding blessedly sure of this. "Since this is live footage, it _can't_ be, though the universe seems to think differently at the moment," he stated. Anakin's gut clenched. "His eyes are yellow," Master Mundi added, with finality. "It's a Sith," Anakin realized. "Darth Vader his name is, if heard correctly, we have," Yoda told them calmly.

Anakin's brain clicked. "He cloned me!" He spat just as Obi-wan stated with a bit of amusement; "he cloned you."

"Yes," Master Koth affirmed. "That's why he and Dooku cleared out so fast," Anakin realized. "They didn't want to fight because they didn't want to risk us finding your DNA on them," Obi-wan sighed, disgust coloring the force.

"Now they have their own Chosen One. One _very _strong in the force," Mace groaned. "He's not as strong as me, though, is he?" Anakin leaned forward, placing his hands on the console. They had _cloned_ him. He was not sure whether to be shocked, infuriated, concerned or strangely flattered.

"No. You cannot clone pure force power like yours, DNA or not," Master Koth told him. "He is still a formidable enemy, and I'm afraid he's ruining your reputation," Master Windu explained instead. "Well," Obi-wan deduced, stroking his beard contemplatively. "This is quite a dilemma," he stated evenly. Anakin wanted to smack him.

"So the whole universe thinks I've turned into a _Sith_?" Anakin demanded shrilly. "And that you're gallivanting around slaughtering whole villages and threatening people for information about the rebels. Many citizens want your blood spilled presently, young Skywalker," Master Tinn added apologetically. Anakin groaned. "Ah, come _on_," he grumbled.

"He needs to be stopped," Obi-wan decided austerely. "Immediately. Where is he now?" Okay, this worked. Anakin could do this. Planning worked with him. "We have absolutely no inkling," Mace sneered. "He's been in so many places and at such a rate that he could be anywhere," he said.

"What about the footage?" Anakin asked, pointing to his clone. He had a clone now, wonderful. "Didn't you say that it was live? Where is he in that one?" He asked. "Tatooine," Anakin's heart flipped. "_My_ home planet? Seems a little like he's trying to get my attention," he crossed his arms and straightened out. "I'll go," he decided. Obi-wan cleared his throat loudly.

"And Obi-wan, too, of course," Anakin quickly corrected himself, putting an affectionate hand on Obi-wan's shoulder. "Leave as soon as you can, every day he's still at large more people die," Mace told them firmly. Anakin's resolve hardened.

"Yes, masters," he said as the two of them bowed. The Jedi council vanished, stern and weary faces still staring at Anakin as if they suspected he might be the mysterious Sith after all.

Anakin sighed and pressed his fingers into his temple. "How could I have been so _stupid_?" He groaned. "You didn't know," Obi-wan comforted him softly. "People are dying because of me," Anakin pointed out, tightly. "So, why not do something about it? Come, we both know we have a mission to begin," Obi-wan said determinedly. Anakin felt his strength grow, borrowed from Obi-wan.

"Right," he looked at the door, feeling his gut clenching hard. The force darkened around him in warning. Anakin waited for the rest of the caution, but it never came. "But… We should... Wait a few more days," he suddenly felt the need to say, doubting his own sanity as he said it. "What?" Obi-wan snapped to stare at him with intense replica eyes.

"Why?" He demanded. Anakin shook his head. "The force tells me we should wait," he mumbled. He blinked as a wave of terror washed over him.

"Call it a premonition."

* * *

~Darth Vader's POV~

Darth Vader loved screaming. The screams of people, they were in different symphonies, really. Especially as the species ranged. He had been alive a mere month, and already he knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his breathing days: make people_ scream_.

Women were sometimes high-pitched, and the men tended to be deeper, but the men were always the first to cry. The women screamed themselves silly before they cried. The Sith looked about at the village, now empty of inhabitants that he had just slaughtered. The children whimpered, mostly.

But sometimes they screamed, and they screamed and cried at the same time, in most cases. One little boy had just a stared numbly, as if he had expected himself to die one day anyway. That was no fun.

Turning those thoughts away, he refocused on his mission, which he had expected to be fairly simple. It had turned out not to be. He had been tasked with finding his clone, his Jedi twin. Anakin Skywalker; and kill all who opposed him. Including the Jedi's loved ones. His master had wanted the children alive, though, because of their force power.

_ Why does he want Skywalker when he has me?_ Vader wondered darkly. He shook his head again. Vader looked up at the smoldering suns, roasting him and all the dead inhabitants. The corpses, indeed, were beginning to stink in the blistering heat.

Anakin wasn't here, on Tatooine. So where could he be? "Sir!" Vader sneered at the droid who approached him.

Noticing this, the tiny thing paused and though it was not programmed to have either emotions nor personalities, seemed to quake under his glare. "What?" he snapped, in a voice that he imagined matched another.

He wanted that other dead; perhaps he could kill Skywalker and just deliver the children to Master Sidious. Two other droids marched up, and in front of them, in blaster range; a man had his arms up in the air with surrender.

Vader could sense his terror distinctly, the coward. "We have a prisoner, sir. He claims to know the location of Skywalker's base," the droid reported with that annoying, high-pitched voice they all harbored inside artificial heads_. _

_ Yes, base, that is what he would call it,_ Vader thought with a small, painful smile. He knew full well that the Jedi more than likely lived in this secret place. He was destroying a family, a _home_, and he knew it. He loved the idea of it, as long as they screamed.

"Does he?" Vader looked down at the Twi'lek male with boredom. He hadn't killed a Twi'lek yet, he wondered what might happen when he did. "And why would you know that, my friend?" he inquired of the Twi'lek, in his most friendly and casual voice. His master had taught him when to use violence, and when to use negotiation and a kind smile… Afterwards his lightsaber.

"I-I-I'm O-one of those R-rebel Spies, sir," The man confessed hastily, his teeth chattering with suppressed fear and his knees knocking with the same delusion. Vader had already found that fear often loosened the mouths of most.

"Is that so?" He took his lightsaber, large and blood red, in his hand and twirled it casually. He saw his own face, smiling lightly, in the dark orbs of fear others would surely called eyes.

"Then surely you realize that you're a traitor to the great Empire and its Emperor," he suggested cheerfully. The Twi'lek lost all color to his pastel russet skin, making him appear a milky gray.

"No! N-no, sir. They forced me to do it, you see," he tried to lie, without even attempting to look as if he were serious. Vader wondered if this man had choreographed bad acting, or perhaps his fear prevented him from seeing how horrible he was at it.

"I see," he lied smoothly. He was very proud of his own lying skills, actually. "So, since you obviously have such vast knowledge of the rebels, where is Skywalker's base, might I ask?" He wondered conversationally.

The Twi'lek's brow crinkled in confusion a moment."Skywalker….? Aren't you…?" he didn't finish, only stared at Vader with utter incomprehension. It dawned on Vader that the universe probably thought he was Anakin himself.

His teeth clenched. He was no man's _double_. He was Darth Vader, dreaded master of the Dark Side, not some weak Jedi who was said to be part of a weakling prophecy. Vader would fulfill Skywalker's destiny himself when he made him scream for that last time.

_"Where?"_ He demanded harshly, raising his fist. The Twi'lek's feet dangled off the ground, hands scrabbling at something that he could not feel. "Biyalia!" The spy finally screamed, desperately.

"He's on Biyalia! Please, I swear that is where! Biyalia!" Vader dropped the filth, staring at him with boredom again. Biyalia? The mid-rim planet? Why would Skywalker be _there?_ It virtually had nothing overly special about it, nor did it have anything to do with Skywalker's past.

_ Then again, maybe that's why he chose it…_

"Prepare the ships," he ordered the droid. Vader looked back down at his informer, who sat on his knees, gasping for breath. _I wonder_… Vader powered up his lightsaber. "Thank you for your information," he said cheerily. His victim looked up, and his face reflected the coward he was.

Vader thrust, and enjoyed the screams.


	5. Attack!

_**A week later:**_

~Padme's POV~

He was incontrovertibly more handsome when he was worried. Padme stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she stared lovingly at her husband, now a hated man throughout the galaxy. She could see the conflict this fact was spreading within him on his expression.

It seemed to her that whenever the Jedi went deep into the force, they never noticed the outside world, providing Padme with the perfect time to just plain stare at her husband.

He had to have been horrendously worried if he was willing to meditate without insistent nagging.

Suddenly, Anakin's eyes opened to reveal stunning indigo pupils that stared into her very soul with ferocity. "Hello," she whispered, breathless with his gaze. The look in his eyes made her knees tremble for a moment. He smiled his endearing smile and leaned back on his palms, still cross-legged.

"Spying on me?" He inquired, trying to sound nonchalant. Padme walked in, closing the door behind her. They had not had time alone for… She had lost count the days it had been.

"Always," she assured him, eyes taking in the sight of his panther-like body. Anakin's eyes twinkled. "You're worried, Ani," Padme observed, coming in at his beckoning hand. She sat across from him, taking his hand in hers. Anakin gave a hearty sigh.

"It's nothing but this force disturbance," he tried to lie. He should know better with her. "You had a dream, didn't you?" Anakin cocked an eyebrow.

"What is it with you women? You, Ahsoka, Intrepid and Nava have all said that to me today, and left poor Lux and Obi-wan in total bafflement," he said.

Padme laughed. "We have an understanding," she explained. Anakin shook his head in stupefaction. "I want one of those. Anyways, yes, I had a dream… It bothered me," he said.

"Why?" Padme asked. "Was it a premonition?" She had been married to Anakin long enough to know what a premonition was. Anakin fiddled with her delicate fingers. "It had the making of one," he mumbled. "But I can't let it come true. I won't. It was… Of me turning to the Dark Side," he confessed. Padme gave a start, startled.

_ "You?"_ She echoed. Anakin nodded miserably and let out a long-suffering sigh, lowering his eyes. Padme cupped his cheek in her hand. "Anakin, sweetie, you know who you are," she chided softly.

"I also know who I _could_ be," Anakin agreed grumpily. "You don't have to be that person," she smiled at him kindly, and she could see in his eyes that she had helped ease him.

"This Sith is not a reflection of you. He is what Sidious tried to make of you," She decided. "Had we not captured him, I would have turned into that monster. What would I have done by now, Padme?" Anakin asked softly, eyes stirring with fear.

Padme found such fear ridiculous. Anakin had his faults, of course, but she loved his faults as well as his strengths. She loved _him,_ and nothing, she suspected, could ever change that.

The universe had drastically altered, but never their love.

"I don't know. I don't care. It never happened. We're safe, Anakin, and we're happy. You are a Jedi, and if you want to keep getting _these_," she stretched the distance and kissed him. Anakin quickly dissolved into the touch, and when they broke apart, Padme's heart had quickened.

"You'll stay that way," she finished. "Now, isn't that a good incentive?" She wondered. Anakin's eyes settled into calm and loving depths. "The best," he agreed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her closer. Padme allowed him to nuzzle her neck, feeling her breath cut short.

"I love you," Anakin murmured. Her limbs turned to jelly when he said that. Padme stroked the back of his neck, passion spreading through every vein in her body. "I love you more," she assured him. Anakin chuckled deeply, as if her statement were vastly hilarious, and only shook his head, looking up.

His eyes sparkled with mischievousness. "You know," he glanced at the bed. "I don't have anything very important on my agenda right now," he purred, running a finger down her arm temptingly. "Neither do I," Padme breathed quickly, her brain liquefied, and she noted that even if she had, she would not have remembered. Anakin grinned and they stood as one.

Padme felt her heart skip a beat as Anakin kissed her forehead, leaning in to touch his temple with her own. She held him to her, as tightly as he was holding her.

"You're not a monster," she whispered to him, once more, their lips inches away. "You're a Jedi. _My_ Jedi," she went silent under the contact of their lips.

Here, obligation vanished to make way for something more, something that did not follow a Code or a duty, senate or Jedi. All doubts and theories fled.

There was no rebellion here, only compliance, no struggle or fight, only peace and love. What the Jedi-_her_ Jedi-stood for.

Suddenly, Anakin tensed and pulled away, his eyes sharpening from the gentle tone of affection to serious concentration. Padme opened her eyes (when had she closed her eyes?) only to notice that the both of them were on the bed, somehow. Anakin's grip on her waist increased, and she realized she was settled firmly in his lap.

"What is it?" She asked, noting the uneasiness of his shoulders under her hands. Anakin opened his mouth, but before he could reply, their door flew open and Ahsoka Tano's battle ready face appeared.

"Master! An Empire Sith cruiser has arrived in the atmosphere!" She gasped out, as if she had run a great distance to tell him. Padme's gut clasped hard. Something was about to happen, she could _feel_ it.

"It's coming right at us," yep, that was definitely something. Suddenly, Ahsoka scowled, seeming to discern what exactly she was looking at. "What were you two doing?" She demanded, with some gullible uncertainty.

Both sets of cheeks went red. Before, again, either could stammer out a reply; the lights flickered off. Padme looked up at the ceiling. In the approaching afternoon, this would normally be of no problem, but the lights did not just flick off for no reason. Not when an Empire cruiser was in orbit.

Anakin patted her shoulder quickly. "Find the twins, _now_," he whispered tersely. Padme nodded and scrambled out of his lap. In a head long run, she pushed past Ahsoka and out into the hall.

The house was dead silent. Everyone could feel it, as if the force had decided to warn them all, instead of only alerting its chosen guardians.

Padme grasped the railing of the stairs, rushing down. The twins were in the conference room, last she had seen. Out of the blue, though, the kitchen exploded. Padme screamed as a flash of golden/orange light blinded her and the floors quaked violently. Her scream joined with those from around her as she was jolted over the balcony.

She felt the air rush around her as she plummeted downwards, screaming. Then she landed… Safely in the arms of Obi-wan Kenobi. She looked up, winded, at Obi-wan, who was studying the madness around them with tense muscles. He was crouched, having had to jump to catch her.

Anakin and Ahsoka appeared at the top of the stairs. "Get the twins and then get everyone out of here," Obi-wan ordered her.

Padme nodded quickly. "Will do, general," she agreed breathlessly. Obi-wan did not respond to the jest, instead only released her and issued swift orders to Anakin and Ahsoka.

Padme grabbed at the walls as the house once more erupted with more explosions. Someone was bombing them. The floor shook underneath her, and she was often blinded by the intense lights of igniting blasts and flying shrapnel.

Yet she had to get to her babies.

* * *

~Ahsoka's POV~

"Anakin, get everyone out. Ahsoka, mobilize the troops," Obi-wan called to them swiftly. Ahsoka opened her mouth to object when suddenly the entire house shuddered with another blast. They were destroying their home.

Without further stipulation, Anakin jumped down from the top of the stairs and bolted for the demolished kitchen, where the moans of those who had been hit by the blast could be heard.

Ahsoka snapped her comm. Link to her mouth as she jumped over the balcony and headed towards the door, which was teeming with a mass of people desperate to get out. "Cannonball!" She yelled, straining to be heard beyond the screams of panic and cries of alarm coming from the trapped people.

"General! The base is under attack!" Yes, well, she could have guessed that herself. Ahsoka solved the crisis of the crowded door by rudely shoving her way to the front.

Mentally apologizing to Anakin and Padme for further demolishing their residence, she slammed her ignited emerald blade and started scoring a larger hole.

"I realize that," she muttered tightly, her arms shaking with the strain of cutting through a wall. "Mobilize all troops. Send out all fighters. Get my starfighter ready, and," she spared a glimpse behind her as a Twi'lek emerged from the fray and sunk her own lightsaber into the opposite wall, working her way to Ahsoka. "Rev up the _Twilight,_" she instructed.

"Yes, sir!" Force, what would they do without clones? Ahsoka pulled her saber out of the wall easily and surveyed half of the giant hole they had just partially made.

How to make it fall without cutting all the way through? Ahsoka exchanged a glance with Intrepid, standing on the other side of the door. Nodding, they took identical steps back and summoned the force.

The house gave a minor shake as suddenly, the entire front entryway collapsed into rubble and the panicked people, stumbled outside in a deluge of screaming and gasps.

Ahsoka jumped atop a rather large piece of no-longer appealing wall to gain a better viewpoint. The viewpoint was horrifying. The sky overflowed with so many ships-both Empire and Rebel- that it appeared as if a gargantuan swarm of multi-colored locusts had descended on them, a curse of undeserved quantity. The illumination from the sun and the sight of the clouds just below that happened to have been entirely blocked by these ships, casting a silhouette of admonition over the house.

Adding to this wrath was the distant pall of smoke that advanced into the air from the base, which Ahsoka had never been able to see before now.

Now she could easily make it out, distinguished only by the flames that leapt from the rooftops, kindled and encouraged by bombs.

Fighters circled that place of training as buzzards did a kill, and enclosed the house as well. She could sense them opposed to seeing, and the bursts of crimson and gold made her heart skip a beat at every one.

_ How did this happen?_ She wondered as the people screaming and running about went mute. _The house-our beautiful house. It's gone._

Perfectly demolished, in all essence of the word. This place… It had not only been Anakin's and Padme's, though originally, they had created it to fit that title. No, this was _their_ house, and the shelter that replaced the Jedi Temple that had met it's end with destruction and abandonment.

Ahsoka gaped, almost frozen, as war waged with frightening passion. Suddenly, ships rained down from the skies, bringing with them droids and Sith. The droids unfiled from the ships before anyone could even escape the house that was still being bombed.

Screams erupted as all the spies, businessmen, representatives, volunteers, secretaries and soldiers collided with the droid army. Death sang in the force, the Dark Side roared with victory.

_ How could we let this happen?_ Ahsoka's eyes lifted, without taking her head with it, and settled on the fighter that was unpredictably hovering in front of her. _"Bweeep!"_ R-4 whistled in alarm. Ahsoka was cognizant that she could be of more help in the skies than here, where death was prevalent. Numbly, she climbed into the fighter.

_ How could this happen? _


	6. So may it be

~Nava's POV~

_ "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,"_ it had been told time and again. The saying had lived longer than Nava. The Jedi had prospered on this longer than even Yoda, and Nava had grown up with this saying in mind.

Yet when she saw things such as this; when she heard the screams and stumbled over the lifeless bodies, she rebuffed the tradition of ancient times. This was _war_, and if this carnage, this complete violation of living things and beautiful innocence was not ignorance, was not pure unrivaled hatred, then what was it?

It was not knowledge. Hatred was not knowledge, understanding was. And this was nowhere near understanding nor knowledge.

All of this and more darted across Nava's mind as she forced her way inside of the conference room and stumbled within, twisting her body to avoid the chunk of burning ceiling that had fallen. Soon, the entire house's foundation would crack and fall, burned away.

Before it did, she needed to save Padme and the twins. She had felt Padme's sharp sensation of pain, through a bond that had naught to do with force power.

Nava burst into the room, and her mind flashed back over thirty years to the fire fight, where she had run into a room very much like this.

Instead of arriving to find Obi-wan and Bruck in mortal combat, however, she saw the burning remains of electrical computers and leather chairs. And her senses answered the vital question of the location her friend could be found at quickly enough.

_ The love of a mother,_ she thought admirably as Nava ran, jumping over burning pieces of ceiling and squinting against the stinging smoke. "Padme!" She called as she gathered the force, present even in this place, and threw out a hand. Propelled by urgency, the large pieces of burning wall were moved away, revealing the limp body of Padme Amidala shielding two screaming twins.

Nava knelt next to her best friend, placing a hand on her back. "Easy, you two," she soothed the twins, trapped beneath Padme. "Nava is here. It's alright now. Nava is here. Wake up, Padme," she choked, coughing on the smoke. Suddenly, the house shook again, defying the laws of gravity by nearly throwing Nava into the air.

She gasped raggedly and threw her own body over Padme's as more pieces of aflame kindling rained down on them. The house would collapse soon. "Okay- time to go," she grunted. With quick strength, she seized Padme by the waist and threw the unconscious senator over her shoulder, vacantly noting that blood was trickling down from her scalp.

Then, balancing herself out critically, Nava used the force to lift both twins into her arms. With endurance not fit for a woman of her age-nor of any person not so highly trained- she sprinted out of the room and into the howling peril of the crumbling edifice.

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

"Obi-wan, everyone is nearly out!" Anakin called to Obi-wan, knowing that wherever he was he would hear Anakin's shout. Anakin used the force to move a flaming piece of metal from atop another battle specialist, and pulled his limp body towards him.

The ground shook harshly. The floor was on the verge of collapse. The Sith were bombing them into oblivion, apparently.

Anakin gritted his teeth against the smoke and knelt beside the man, whose force signature was flickering with fading life. He had no time to lose; he had to get him out of there immediately.

Anakin slung said dying person over his shoulder, already on his way out. His mind spun with questions and calculations. Had Padme gotten the twins out yet? How many people remained before he had evacuated the whole, doomed house? How had the Sith _found_ them? Was there…?

Oh, never mind. Yes, there was a Sith, standing adjacent to what was formerly his front door, actually. Anakin could sense him as clearly as he could smell the acrid smoke around him.

His pace quickened as the sound of lightsabers met his ears, strained against the background noises of bombs, screams, suckling flames, explosions and blaster shots.

Anakin leapt off of the staircase without conscious thought. Sadness sawed at his heart, a sadness he had rarely ever known. His home, his beautiful home...Gone. Destroyed. All by whatever stupid Sith had done this. Anakin would kill him. He would.

He would give him as slow a death as the crumbling of his house, because every board and plank that fell tore another stitch in his heart.

"Anakin!" That was Obi-wan, his accented voice calm, yet vaguely unnerved. "I found your twin!" His what? Oh. It was _him,_ huh? The other Anakin? The Sith that was _ruining_ his reputation; and now had shattered his home? Yep, he was going to die.

Anakin set the man down hurriedly, away from any danger, and rushed to where the sound of clashing lightsabers echoed throughout the room. He arrived just in time to see Obi-wan crash into the wall next to him, and send its burning wall down in ashes. His jaw clenched.

Oh, he was going to _slaughter_ that Sith now. He ignited his own saber and stepped protectively in front of Obi-wan, who was already scrambling to his feet. From the ring of flames around them came someone Anakin had been prepared to face-though not actually see.

The resemblance was impeccable. Not even a single difference between the looks. The scar was the same, the large, bright eyes, though yellow. The confident, predatory stance and fierce scowl. Force, he felt as if he were staring in the mirror at the man he could have been.

And this man-no, he could not be a man, he was a _beast_- was somebody he did not ever want to turn into. Darth Vader looked no happier to see Anakin than Anakin was to see him. A red saber gleamed at him, buzzing with its artificial brightness.

"Anakin Skywalker," he growled in greeting, in Anakin's _exact_ voice. "Darth Vader," Anakin acknowledged back, slightly disorientated to hear his own voice speaking to him.

This fight might turn out to be harder than he had initially anticipated. _If you're confused, imagine how I feel,_ Obi-wan grumbled in his mind as his former master stood, flicking his wrist back and forth as if clearing away a minor discomfort.

He stood by Anakin's side, lightsaber loose in his hand, as he squared off against Vader emotionlessly.

"So," Anakin studied his opponent with frank interest. Vader was also observing him with little boredom. "You're my new clone. Shouldn't that breed some allegiance to me?" He wondered idly, stalking around to avoid some falling ceiling. He had to get out soon.

Vader sneered in response, his golden eyes flashed with fervent, ardent lividness. Anakin imagined that sort of anger in his heart, and shook his head to clear the thought. As Padme has said; this Sith was not a reflection of who he was.

He was a reflection of the fate Anakin had escaped.

"You're the Jedi my master has such fascination in," Vader barked back. His eyes traveled Anakin up and down. "I see nothing worth valuable time over you. I suppose he'd be livid if I killed you, but pain wears off," this Sith was brave if he dared try and go against a direct order from Sidious.  
Then again, Anakin would too.

He set his shoulders and smirked, just too completely tick Vader off.

"You won't defeat me. Sidious may have tried to clone pure force power like mine. But I'm sorry to tell you that you can't, dear boy," he cocked his head in mock sympathy. "No matter what you do, you'll always just be a copy of something great. A pity you turned out to be so small," that was it.

Anakin had infuriated him. Vader charged, eyes flashing with impudent anger. Anakin strived for patience. He had to control himself and forget about the burning house around him, and the fact that he had dreamed about Luke and Leia growing up in this place for years. Now it was gone and Anakin could not bring it back, for all that he would try.

He could never replace all the lives that had been lost today, nor could he replace his home, the perfect home built by his perfect family. But all of that was a minor annoyance.

What really made Anakin angry -what made him want to tear a slit in this Sith's stomach and drag out his entrails- was the fact that Vader had_ endangered_ his twins. This Sith had put his wife, his children, in peril. And Anakin refused to let that go. Someone would die for that. _Someone.  
_

They clashed sabers readily, the fight having escalated into something greater with Anakin's taunting. This was personal now. "Sidious's poster boy, huh?" Anakin huffed in between strikes and parries. He glanced around, but he seemed to have misplaced Obi-wan.

"The Jedi's court jester, huh?" Vader answered, just as tightly. Anakin's anger flared. The Jedi's what? He was not some _fool_ to be presented at a royal ball. No, he was a Jedi Knight in every claim. He was a Jedi now, part of the family. And he would not let this villain disrespect that.

_Don't fight with anger,_ Obi-wan ordered in his mind. Anakin, who was currently fighting for his life, clenched his jaw.

Did Obi-wan just try and lecture him right now, of all times_? I only lecture because I have done it. Don't make my mistake,_ Obi-wan replied, softly.

Anakin let out an exhale that sounded like a huff but was actually a sigh of endearment. Obi-wan was just trying to keep him safe. Anakin knew he had promised Padme, and Qui-gon, and Shmi and _himself t_hat he would keep Anakin out of harm's way, or at least as much as being Jedi allowed.

_Where are you?_ Just as the answer traveled through the bond, and perhaps before it could even reach Obi-wan's side of the bargain, another sapphire blade swept over Vader's head.

"Everyone is out," Obi-wan reported serenely as he advanced upon the retreating Sith, who eyed this new challenge without admiration. "The great _Negotiator_," he recognized. Anakin stood behind his enemy, and Vader turned, facing neither and both of them at the same time, hands placed defensively on his saber.

"My partner," he agreed. Obi-wan did not reply; Anakin could see him staring; his azure eyes cool yet intense with concentrated blindness. That gaze, so precise and unwavering, usually scared the wits out of most people. Vader was not easily intimidated.

"My first trophies, I believe, will be your lightsabers. Such an exceptional prize," Vader purred, looking them over as if they were modestly good meat he had found on sale at the market. Anakin wondered if he _really_ sounded that creepy whenever he made that noise.

"You'll have to either kill us," Obi-wan pointed out. "Or wrench these weapons out of our hands yourself. And then run… _Fast_," Anakin finished as both got into their respected poses for their individual fighting styles, ready for an attack. To his surprise, it did not come in the form of a lightsaber.

Indeed, Vader did not even have the chance to move before the force gasped in warning. Anakin dove to the side as the ceiling groaned, then buckled, without so much as a second warning. Tons of debris and fire-smothered rugs, computers, books and other household possessions fell into a giant heap in what used to be his entryway.

Smoke floated into the air in giant bushels of black soot. Anakin gasped for breath as he stood. Vader stood in unison. They shared a look of pure malice, the promises of revenge written clearly in both eyes, before the Sith dashed off. Anakin let him go. Where was Obi-wan?

"You'll be the death of me someday!" Obi-wan coughed, grasping Anakin's arm in a strong handhold. Obi-wan covered his mouth and nose with his elbow, coughing violently from the smoke.

"We have to go," he said. "Follow me," now, this was a benefit of having a blind equal. Anakin could not see his own foot in all this smoke, but Obi-wan could sense the best way out with his force-sight. Dragged along by Obi-wan, Anakin cast a last glance back at the reminders of the house, just as they burst into the open air, dry and acidic with bomb debris and death.

_ "A Jedi shall have no worldly possessions,"_ Anakin had once heard, and once followed this rule as carelessly as the other Jedi. Now he understood why it had been set in place.

The pain he felt when he saw his own home, the place he had spent so many nights and found security in, was gone. He stopped and turned, as more bombs rained down, exploding in bright colors of the fire.

_ Did the Jedi Temple burn like this?_

Now, he supposed he had a fair idea of what the other Jedi could have felt like knowing that the Sith had moved into their beloved temple, once upon a time sacred and pure. Where would his family go now? They had been found by the Sith. What would happen to the people of this planet? Would they be punished?

Anakin's unspoken questions went unanswered when above him; _The Twilight_ suddenly chugged into view, followed devotedly by Ahsoka's starfighter. Intrepid's head appeared from the pinnacle of the ship's top hatch as the ship hovered above them, expectant.

Her head tails swayed in the wind. Her face was a giant streak of ash and her arm was bandaged. "Anakin! Obi-wan! Come on!" She shouted, waving her arm beckoningly. Obi-wan put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the view of his house.

_ Just one last look; please. _

"It's time to_ go_," Obi-wan told him firmly, wrenching him back. Anakin shook his head and looked up. Swallowing his rage, he jumped onto the ship and slipped past Intrepid into _The Twilight_. Obi-wan followed him closely. "We're clear! Go, master!" Intrepid called to the front.

Anakin heard the sound of the engines working beyond reasonable capacity as the ship took off into the atmosphere, into the waiting embrace of the cruisers. He sighed and stood, swiping at the soot on his arm.

"Good timing, Intrepid," Obi-wan gasped; impenetrable as ever, while he did likewise. Anakin wasn't listening. He surged forward into the bridge, where Nava sat at the pilot's seat.

The Jedi master cast him a sorrowful glance over her shoulder, but said nothing. On the ground beside the co-pilot's chair sat his wife, a bandage wrapped around her temple, with two weeping children in her arms. When she heard the door open, Padme looked up, and gave him a weary half-smile.

Anakin sighed in relief and knelt beside her, lying a hand on Luke's back. "Are you all alright?" He asked quietly. Padme nodded. Luke and Leia looked up, sniffling.

"We're fine," Padme assured him hoarsely. Anakin brushed his fingers against her temple. "What happened?" He wondered, worriedly. Padme shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she groaned.

"Fatha?" Leia asked, softly. Anakin put a hand on her forehead. "Yes, peace?" He asked, just as softly. "What are we gonna do now?" She looked up at him with eyes as stunning as his.

The bright light in them had vanished to replace the look of sad foreboding that Anakin himself cast when he was broken and scared. He gulped past the lump in his throat.

She was only _four years old_.

He glanced at Padme for help, but his wife shrugged, powerlessly. "We," Intrepid suddenly blurted, walking into the room. "Are going to do as all Jedi before us have done and will do. We're going to keep going," she declared. There was a stricken, critical silence before Luke replied: "Who burned our house?" Anakin's heart twisted in his chest.

"Sith," neither Nava nor Intrepid spared them the truth of it. Luke and Leia exchanged looks that meant more than Anakin knew. "Maybe they were just havin' a bad day," Luke suggested, innocently.

Padme let out a strangled snicker that sounded a bit like a sob. She hugged their children tighter. "Yes, baby, they were just a having a bad day," She agreed, tearfully.

"Can we get a new house?" Leia wondered, her wide eyes going now to Padme. Padme sighed and stroked away a bit of Leia's hair. "I don't know, honey," she whispered sullenly. "We _will_," Anakin corrected, sounding much more strong and calm than he really was. "We're going to get a big and _awesome_ house," Nava chirped, cheerily.

"On some weird, cool planet," Anakin added. "With pretty flowers," Padme told them, with a small smile. "And it's going to be a home for all the Jedi, where we'll learn and fight together," Intrepid knelt next to Anakin, her wide green eyes kind, yet weary.

"We'll be a family," Luke stated, in a small voice. "Yes, we will," Obi-wan concurred wisely, arriving as if the day were just beginning. "And your father and I will get to sit back and laugh when Ahsoka and Intrepid train you because you'll both turn out to be brats in your teenage years, like your father was," he predicted.

Luke giggled. Leia smiled.

"And we'll teach Yoda how to speak forward," Nava smirked as Obi-wan took up residence in the co-pilots seat. Their hands linked together steadfastly. "We'll convince Master Windu to grow some hair," Intrepid muttered. "We'll get our sabers, too," Luke reminded them. Anakin's heart lifted a smidge at the twinkle in his eye.

"We'll rebuild the senate and the Jedi and everyone will be free," Padme tucked her chin on top of Luke's head. "We'll go and beat up the Sith because they're kriffing sleemo's," Leia determined fiercely.

Anakin guffawed and glared as Obi-wan turned his head away ingenuously. Padme and Nava glared at _him_. "Or we'll give them hugs because they had a bad day," Luke countered, shooting a nasty glance at his cruel sister. "Let's do that," Padme grumbled, still glaring at Anakin.

"And in the end, there'll be no more war, no more pain, no more hatred and everything will be good again," Nava finished, before the conversation could escalate. Anakin nodded. Lying was much easier than the truth.

"There will be peace," he assured his children, softly, as if sharing a forbidden secret. "In the end," Padme smiled up at him. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back. "Whatever end that may be," the remaining Jedi finished. Anakin let out a sigh of coming hope.

So it was said, so may it be.


	7. Begin the search

~Lux's POV~

_ "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…"_ Lux closed his eyes as the sound of his mother's singing brought back memories that were a scar on his heart.

He inhaled, all alone on the bridge of _The Resolute_. The endless labyrinth of suns and planets and stars was laid out before him in a dizzying array of nebulas. The clusters of stars were beautiful to most.

_ "Up above the sky so high… _

Yet to him they brought only deep-rooted and painful memories. "Lux," his eyes snapped open as his silence was interrupted by a familiar voice. He smiled without any real happiness and turned around to see Ahsoka Tano positioned in the doorway, a wry smile on her face. She had already washed the soot of the house off her figure. Lux had as well. Let the memories wash away.

_"Like a diamond in the sky…"_

Lux had not seen her nor the others since the start of the fighting. "Is everyone alright?" He inquired worriedly. Ahsoka nodded, but did not budge.

"They're in _The Twilight_, in the hangar for privacy. We need to decide what we're going to do now," She told him. Lux nodded solemnly. All of the survivors had been crammed into the four cruisers that they had managed to save.

Dozens more had died.

_"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…"_

Silently, the two of them walked through the halls towards the hangar. "Most of the clones are alive," Lux reported quietly, as they went on. "Almost two hundred people were wounded. It could have been worse," he supposed.

Ahsoka nodded. "We can transfer a lot of them to other Jedi bases, but not everyone. I think some of them will have to settle down with us," she guessed. Lux folded his hands behind his back.

"Do we have any clue where to go?" he wondered. Ahsoka shook her head. "Not the slightest inclining. Any suggestions?" Lux shook his head as they came upon the completely dark hangar bay. The only light came from _The Twilight,_ sitting among the dozens of starfighters and gunships.

Lux sprinted over and ran up the ramp, Ahsoka on his heels. Inside, Intrepid sat on one of the console boards, slouched and tired. Obi-wan sat in the co-pilot's chair, Nava at his feet, her legs crossed. Obi-wan was massaging her shoulders thoughtfully, the cover that usually hid his blindness was down. Hazy blue/grayish film covered the pupils.

Padme sat in the pilot's seat, gazing out the front window despondently. Anakin was leaning against the wall opposite to Intrepid, tinkering with his metal arm. It was dead silent in the room.

All eyes went up when Lux and Ahsoka arrived. "Lux," Intrepid breathed with a small smile, straightening out. They all looked so tired. "Good. Are you hurt?" Lux shook his head and let his eyes wander.

"Where're the twins?" He asked, softly. "Asleep," Padme droned, sounding very much like she needed sleep herself. "We managed to convince them that we're only on vacation," her mouth quirked in an attempt at a smile, but quickly died away. "What I wouldn't give for a vacation," Nava groaned.

"Vacations are over-rated," Intrepid drawled, with a sheepish grin. Lux snorted with agreement, leaning against the doorframe as Ahsoka walked in to sit next to Intrepid. "So…" No one else seemed to know how to begin the conversation, so he would do it himself.

"Where in the galaxy are we going to go?" He demanded. "Where can we go?" Padme countered resignedly. "The Sith will be scouring the mid and outer rims for us," she pointed out. Anakin sighed. "There goes Naboo," he said, running a hand over his face, as if to wipe away the tiredness on his expression.

"StewJon, Christophsis, Shili and Ryloth, too," Nava added, without much enthusiasm. Lux also opted out the last resort of Tatooine from his mind.

They lapsed into another silence that filled the entire room with a vociferous buzzing. Lux studied his family, a group of Jedi, and pondered that they were not allowed to have attachments.

Yet they did so much better with them.

Unexpectedly Ahsoka looked up. "Courascant," she offered. Lux stared at her with the similar looks of those around him. "Um… Snips?" Anakin said, carefully. "Have you absolutely lost your mind?" He asked.

Ahsoka shook her head. "Last time I checked, I am perfectly stable, master," she answered dryly. "You might want to check again, in that case," Intrepid suggested lightly. Ahsoka rolled her eyes at her friend. "Just hear me out, okay?" She gained a few wary nods.

"Where else would the Sith totally not expect us to be? Right under their noses, right? We could blend into the crowd, become normal everyday citizens of the Empire. Sidious would never expect us there, and where else is the best place to spy on The Sith?" She asked.

Lux exchanged glances with intrepid. "It does hold a certain appeal," Obi-wan considered, his hands resting on Nava's shoulders. "And a great degree of _danger_," Lux added. Ahsoka shrugged.

"We're going to be in danger no matter where we go. Might as well be in the last place Sidious expects," she said with a shrug. Anakin's face grew thoughtful. "Courascant," he echoed skeptically. "Filled with thousands upon thousands of people, we'd_ never_ be detected," Padme thought aloud.

"But we'd have to hide ourselves more closely," Obi-wan cautioned. "Even the slightest suspicion by the wrong person who knew could turn us over to Sidious, and we'd be right in his clutches. We'd have our hide our force signatures at all times. No clones or blasters, nor lightsabers. We'd have to live as average people," he said. They all plunged into an additional thoughtful silence.

Despite not being a Jedi, Lux had never been a regular person. He had always been different, always just… Stood out. And in the life Obi-wan described, he would have to become another person.

He would have to bury who he was again, instead of staying around people who knew and loved him for who he was. He would have to _forget _who he was and take on another identity.

Could he do it?

"I…" Padme spoke slowly. "Don't think we have any other choice. Every other planet is ousted," she reminded them, solemnly. She gazed at her husband. "What do you think? Do we really want to raise Luke and Leia on_ Courascant_?" she asked. Lux had nearly forgotten about the children.

Anakin ran a hand through his hair. "They've never really been around other kids. This might give them a chance to socialize," he considered. "But we'd have to stress on them how important it is to keep their force powers a secret. Can we really ask a four-year-old that?" Padme asked worriedly.

Anakin's brows furrowed. "I... don't know," he admitted with some difficulty. He looked at Obi-wan and Nava. "Anything to add, the only ones who have raised children to adulthood?" He inquired.

"They're both extremely intelligent," Obi-wan put in helpfully. "But it is a rather big thing to ask them. And you will have to tell them the entire truth," said Nava, firmly.

Padme narrowed her eyes like a hissing snake. "There goes their innocence," she grunted disapprovingly. "They are going to lose it eventually," Ahsoka, yawned, apparently untroubled.

Both parents exchanged anguished glances. "How will we even get a house?" Intrepid piped in. Padme seemed to brighten some. "No worries about that. I've already called Bail, and he's offered up quite a large sum of money for us. Enough to buy a house in the middle class district of Courascant, at least," she reported with much relief.

"Those houses aren't very large," Lux, pointed out. "And those houses require having a _job_ to actually keep it, especially with the Sith in charge," Obi-wan added, cocking an eyebrow at Anakin. Anakin gave him a hurt look, which Obi-wan could not see anyway, and thus went on.

"All of us will have to become something totally different in this. There will be bills to pay and needs to fulfill that we've taken for granted all these years," he said. Anakin drew himself up.

"And just _who_ are you talking to, master? I've been out in the real world before, remember? I'm more worried about you Jedi that have been raised in a clean, quiet temple your entire life," he scoffed indignantly. Ahsoka, Intrepid, and Nava crossed their arms, glaring, but Obi-wan took no offense, merely grinned.

"Oh, I assure you, Anakin, us clean, quiet temple folk will do just _fine_ out in the big city of Courascant," he assured Anakin. "I bet you I'll make more money than you, master," Ahsoka dared.

Anakin bristled at the challenge, the old liveliness of the Skywalker family returning. "Oh, really? You're on, Snips," he sneered back. "Care to join us, Obi-wan?" He asked his former master with a malicious twinkle in his eyes. Obi-wan raised his palms in a sign of peace.

"Oh, no, don't bring me into your ridiculous game. I, for one, don't pretend to know the future," he answered coolly. "I _am_ the Chosen One," Anakin declaimed, raising his chin a trifle. Padme beamed up at him and sat up.

"We'll be fine on Courascant," she determined with Anakin's cockiness. Lux felt his heart lift at the sight of daring smiles and confident expressions. "I want to help the children," that sudden remark came from Intrepid, who had remained silent throughout most of the conversation.

"What?" Ahsoka asked. Intrepid blinked away the haziness in her eyes. "While we're on Courascant, we might as well do some good. I want to go to the underground and help the children there," she said.

"The gang violence in the underground is outlandish," Ahsoka agreed, slowly. "The police force needs to be strengthened as well," Lux added, the answer popping out of his mouth like a kidney. "Oh, dear," Nava groaned. "Did I not just say we need to stay out of sight?" Obi-wan inquired calmly.

Lux only smiled. "We'll see what transpires once we arrive," Intrepid replied, with a wave of her hand. Obi-wan cocked an eyebrow. "I suppose that statement settles it. We're en route to Courascant," he stated. "To begin anew," Padme added. Lux nodded and looked put at the abandoned, dark hangar bay, reflecting on how it represented their life presently.

The rest of the universe was dark, but among their family, light shone into the darkness. They were light in a universe of darkness. A new day.

* * *

~ Darth Vader's POV~

"Forgive me my master, I have failed," kneeling in a position of reverence and obeisance, his forehead touching the ground, Darth Vader appealed for forgiveness from his creator. The person who had brought him life and offered him strength, though a mere clone was he.

A mere clone he seemed to be still.

Darth Sidious, mere hologram that he was, sent shivers of fear down his spine, and Darth Vader was not even looking up at his master. "You _fool,"_ Darth Sidious condemned, voice betraying every hint of malice and hatred he had ever felt in those two words.

Darth Vader was suddenly very glad that he was not in the direct presence of this man, or else he suspected he'd suddenly lack a head. Vader cringed; he lived only to please Sidious. Yet he was not good enough, he couldn't even catch Skywalker. "I gave you direct orders and you dare to fail me?" The Sith demanded.

Vader felt a knot in his stomach that quickly dissolved into rage, then liquefied into cold determination. "I will find him," he promised. "You forget, Darth Vader, that other Sith have been searching for Skywalker for four years. He could be anywhere now, all because you _failed_," no, he would not accept disappointment.

Not when he had so much more to give.

"I promise you, it will _not _happen again," he vowed. "I'd hate for it to be so the case, my protégé. You were created, solely, to find and destroy Skywalker. Do not forget that," so his only purpose in life was to find this Jedi? Why? Because he owned the same face as Vader?

He was not Anakin Skywalker.

He did not fail.

"Search every corner of the galaxy until you find him. Go now, my apprentice, and do not fail me," with that dismissal, Darth Sidious disappeared, and Darth Vader stood. He would prove he was not that Jedi traitor. He would succeed where thousands others had failed.

So it was said, so he intended to make it be.


	8. Courascant

_**A month later:**_

~Anakin's POV~

Courascant was-in some ways- just as Anakin remembered it: earsplitting, industrious, hectic, teeming with people from every corner of the universe.

It had been four years since he had last stepped foot on the planet, but he found that it brought a small sigh from him that was not intentional. Once, this place meant home, security, Padme, peace.

Now it signified defeat.

_Another statue?_ Anakin thought bitterly as they passed another elephantine monument to Sidious. They were all over the place. The buildings, as well, were painted with horrid calligraphy from Sith myths and legends, disfigured beyond restoration.

Scenes of tortured Jedi and children hung in banners, flapping in the breeze. The giant holo-visions flashed continuously with pictures of wanted Jedi and the bounty on their heads. Anakin's fury flared.

Droids marched below; Anakin could hear the metal clanking of their feet like the beating of a drum. _How do you live like this?_ Anakin wondered, glancing around at the people.

Courascant had never been the safest and most lively place, but the absolute apprehension and distrust in the air was swirling in a circle. Immediately, Anakin reasoned that no one could be trusted here.

Shaking his head, Anakin pulled his hood over his face even more. Next to him, Padme's eyes roamed the familiar landscape with awe. Luke and Leia sat on the edges of the speeder, pointing at the rushes of similar vehicles continuing hundreds of stories down below.

Ahsoka drove the speeder, Lux sitting at her side in the passenger seat with crossed arms. His cloaked face was disgusted as he gazed down at Courascant. Behind their speeder was the one that held the others. They were on their way to the house that Bail had purchased for them.

**_Later:_**

It was one house out of a large queue of condominiums. Besieged with trash and filth were the streets, despite being what Bail Organa had called _middle class_.

Women stood in the windows of the down sloping street, gossiping and glaring at the passerby's. Scratched and broken down with filching next to sidewalks were the parked speeders.

Children scarcely dressed and thinly built ran through the streets as people surged to and fro with mid-day breaks from work. The house, which was designated for them, had obviously been the neighborhood dump house, packed between two other houses, leaning slightly with the street.

The condo was a thin and bulky rectangle with four sets of windows. Two windows were perched on the uppermost (both black with encrusted dirt) floors and two (both shattered) on the bottom floor.

The paint had all been chipped away to reveal the shabby, silver metal underneath, and the fact that said metal had begun to rust was even a worse welcoming gift.

"I'm going to_ kill_ Bail," Padme growled out furiously as Anakin helped her from the speeder. He refused to look at the house again. Luke and Leia followed their mother, gawking at the residence. "It's not pretty," Leia murmured, narrowing her lips in a thin, displeased line.

"It's atrocious," Nava agreed walking up behind them. Ahsoka wrinkled her nose. "It smells like decay, drugs and desertion," she informed them dryly.

Anakin cast a sharp glance at her, but neither Luke nor Leia seemed surprised. "It just needs a tad of brightening up," Obi-wan tried to say enthusiastically. "It _needs _to be torn down," Padme disagreed, fuming.

Anakin sighed and tried for a light face; for Luke and Leia's sake alone. Frankly, he agreed with Padme. It was a horrible dump that needed to be torn down. Not even the slave quarters he grown up in on Tatooine had been this horrendous. "Maybe the inside is better?" Intrepid recommended, yet her tone suggested that she was highly skeptical of this.

"Yeah," Lux snorted. He scooped Luke into his arms and put the young boy on his back. Ahsoka did likewise to Leia, setting her skillfully in between her head tails. "Let's check it out," she offered brightly.

Anakin exhaled and glanced up at the sky, the actual Courascant atmosphere was blocked out by millions of speeders that soared above them. His children would never see the stars at night here. _It could be worse,_ Obi-wan thought to him as he brushed past. Anakin sniffed in disagreement.

Trying to keep a smile on his face, he followed the others as they filed up the porch steps and into the house. The first sight that welcomed them was the display that was similar to their house in Biyalia-their_ real_ house; Anakin reflected bitterly-a wide living room that was threadbare.

Stained mauve carpet had been put over the metal, and tiny bits of it stuck up like worms crawling from the ground. To their left a staircase led to the second landing above. The stairs leaned inwards crookedly. Directly ahead was the kitchen.

Anakin resisted the urge to reach out with the force and study their surroundings that way. He huffed; this hiding the force thing would be more difficult than he had initially thought.

"Where's the furniture?" Luke asked critically. "There is none. We have to get some son," Anakin explained. Luke stared at him with horror. Intrepid jogged into the kitchen.

"Um…Where's the stove? And why is the sink black? And… Yah. The cupboards are hanging unto the wall by a hinge at _best_," she called back her synopsis. "Oh, stars above," Padme groaned. Nava put an arm around her shoulders.

Obi-wan crinkled his nose and set his jaw, determined to find something that was good about this horrible situation. Valiantly, he led the way upstairs, Ahsoka and Lux carrying Luke and Leia up with them.

Once they were gone, Padme covered her face. "This place is terrible," she whimpered. Anakin had to agree with her. He sighed loudly, struggling to release his anger and indignance into the force.

"They do say struggle builds character," he muttered resentfully. Padme glared at him. Nava chuckled. "Relax; the both of you. It'll be fine. You've survived worse than a dump house. Anakin will have it fixed up in two days at best. I'll help you shop for acceptable furniture, Padme, and it will be good as new," she chirped.

"Your enthusiasm is aggravating," Padme told her friend, but with a grin. Anakin forced himself to smile. Shmi would have said that, and Nava's strength was contagious.

"That's true," he accepted mildly. "And besides, I'll have a job soon, Padme, and then everything will be fine. I'll take care of my family," he assured her. Padme gave him a grateful grin. "I knew that," she stated.

Just as they exchanged affectionate grins, Obi-wan came bounding back down the creaking stairs, his mouth twitching. "Leia ordered me to tell you that she doesn't like this place- too many bugs," he said. Anakin stared confusedly.

Padme's brows scrunched. "Please tell me we're not vermin infested, too?" She pleaded. "I wish I could," Obi-wan regretted, leaning against the metal banister. Anakin missed the polished wood one he had often stroked on Biyalia.

"But you are. Not only rats, either, but birds, insects, cat-looking creatures and force knows what else. On the bright side, Leia learned how to kill spiders. She took off her shoe, and proceeded to smash the thing into the ground, repeatedly yelling at it to _die_, until it finally did as she said and went still," that gained a small chuckle from Nava.

Anakin shook his head with a smile and Padme sighed, murmuring something about having wanted a soft hearted, amorous little girl.

"Then Luke took out his little water gun toy and drowned it until they were satisfied it was truly dead. And even then they dumped it out the window," he recounted, his lips perking up.

"Oh, force," Anakin gulped, biting back laughter. "Currently, they have your ex-padawan and ex-Separatist searching all the corners for more. And they've demanded that someone come and kill the rat in the bathroom. I don't think he's alive, though, he's floating in the toilet," he reported. "Ah, force blast it all!" Padme shouted, throwing up her hands in total despair.

"Calm down, dear," Nava said, squeezing Padme's shoulders. "Calm down? There's a _rat _floating in the toilet!" Padme shouted. "Well, he may not be floating," Obi-wan corrected her, trying to be helpful.

"I couldn't really tell. Maybe he's just having a rather off week and couldn't find a better waterhole," he suggested. Nava guffawed. Padme glared daggers and Anakin shook his head. "Master, you aren't helping," he scolded as Obi-wan tittered lightly.

"Or, maybe as Luke said, the poor creature's only having a bad day. Or, as Leia believes, he's a kriffing sleemo. I'm rather obliged to agree with Leia," he went on, thoughtfully. Even Padme couldn't help but laugh at that one. Anakin looked up, and sent a silent thank you to the force for Obi-wan's humor.

"You find this amusing, don't you?" He asked. Obi-wan nodded and grinned. "Especially since you seem to believe that I intend to let you remain in this filth," he agreed. Anakin cocked an eyebrow. "You have a plan, perhaps, my master?" He asked slyly.

"By all means. You didn't think I planned on letting you live like heathens, a Jedi general and a rebel senator? Over my dead body. Come along now, Nava, go get Intrepid. We've work to do," he said, already walking off. "What work?" Nava asked, curiously, as Intrepid walked in, having heard her name.

"Well, first we have to escort Ahsoka, Lux and Intrepid to the underground to begin their charity work, and then we are going to get started on our own livelihoods," he explained without much more detail. "Wait a minute," Anakin cried at once.

"You _aren't_ living with us?" He gasped. The thought, honestly, had never occurred to him that he and Obi-wan would encounter a time when they_ didn't_ live together. They had been living together for eighteen years. "Not enough space," Nava grunted out the answer. Ahsoka and Lux came back down.

"Luke and Leia are fighting over which rooms they want," Ahsoka explained. She gave Anakin a sympathetic look. "Are you two sure you'll be okay here?" she asked. "Or should I leave Rex as a chaperone?" Her grin was wicked. Anakin rolled his eyes.

"Very funny, Snips. We'll survive. Be careful in the underground," he said seriously. Ahsoka nodded. "I've been there before, remember?" She shot back. Anakin shuddered. "Don't remind me," he groaned.

Ahsoka chuckled and waved as Obi-wan ushered everyone out. "Bye, Padme! Bye, Anakin!" She called. The others waved dismissively; sure that Anakin and his family would survive without their assistance.

Anakin was not so sure.

He sighed when they were all gone, leaving the house eerily empty and quiet. Padme walked over, staring at the closed door longingly. She shook her head and hugged Anakin's arm, he could feel her fear and uncertainty at this new life they were supposed to live, without the direct aid of the rest of the family.

He looked down at her and kissed her hair. "I'll get to fixing those windows right away," he promised. "And I'll figure out what to make dinner with," Padme sighed, at an attempt of being brave. They looked at each other. This would be the hardest time of their lives.

* * *

~Intrepid's POV~

The underground was worse that Anakin and Padme's house. Here, the streets were wet and slimy with defecation and puddles. The houses were smaller metal apartments, stacked on one another like building blocks.

The stench…The stench was unbearable. Intrepid knew, before she had even been there ten minutes; that the smell would fog in her lungs forever. The sounds of the subway, and soft chattering filled the otherwise empty sound wave rate.

Hidden from the rest of Courascant, indeed, basically, underground, the sun did not shine on this part of the city. Electric lights, placed above in the artificial sky, provided light for those in the underground, and faint light at that.

Thus, the very atmosphere, the _air particles_, seemed to weep with death and frightening despair. The Dark Side was strong in this place.

"NO," was Nava's first word in the Courascant underground. Intrepid shared a secret grin with Obi-wan. "No, no, no," she made an emphatic cutting gesture with her hands. "_No_," she decided again. Lux and Ahsoka stared at her as if she had gone mad. Several passing peoples also took turns sparing similar glimpses at the Jedi Master.

"Master," Intrepid spoke soothingly. Nava glanced at her sharply, but Intrepid would not be quieted. "It's only the underground. I've been in worse places," not even she believed that lie. Intrepid doubted there were worse places. Maybe Anakin and Padme's house. _Maybe_…

"She's perfectly equipped Nava," Obi-wan added, coming to her aid. "I'm aware," Nava said dryly. "But I don't intend to let any of them remain here. Honestly, Jedi padawan's in the underground?" She demanded. _"Knight,"_ Ahsoka corrected defensively. "Not a Jedi," Lux added, incredulously.

"Modesty is a virtue," Intrepid finished, a bit irritably. She hated it when people brought up the fact of her missing knighthood. She was the same age as Ahsoka, and being lower than her best friend was awkward.

But a Jedi did not dwell on these things. Jedi did _not_ seek praise, enlargement or power. Intrepid did not. She only wished for no one to remind her of the truth. Especially now.

"Modesty is a _lie_," Nava hissed back, with definite convection. "And what about the children?" Obi-wan pressed their case insistently.

"Yes, master, who'll help them?" Ahsoka said. Nava crossed her arms, set her feet and narrowed her eyes at them all, the traditional stance for stubborn-headed women throughout the galaxy in all epochs.

"The children here were born hoodlums," she informed them, none too gently. "Will be bred as hoodlums and will _die _hoodlums, Jedi intervention notwithstanding. Why don't you all accompany us?" She gestured to Obi-wan.

"Because we don't know where we're going," Obi-wan pointed out. Nava rammed a sharp elbow into his ribs, causing the normally stoic master to inhale brusquely and cringe.

"And," Ahsoka cast an amused glance at the master laboring to breathe again. "We need to be on our own for awhile." She crossed her own arms, meeting Nava's stance. Intrepid journeyed to her friend's side, facing her master. Lux stood behind them, putting a supportive hand on each shoulder.

They were _The Trio_; the three that the universe hailed as one, as fundamental and beloved as Anakin and Obi-wan. As known as Padme and Nava. "All of us, padawan, Jedi, or…Lux," she cast a smirk at him.

"Are grown up now. We can handle ourselves. And we can help these people. We _will_ help these people," quite a speech. Nava looked unimpressed and indifferent as a mother bull who had just witnessed its calf take its first vital steps, steps she had already mastered and gone through without so much fuss.

"That's _wonderful,_ children," Nava agreed, slowly, in her best motherly voice that could be considered mocking at the same time. "You grew _taller,_ and went to new _places_, and ate a disgusting slug for the _first time_, and experienced _mood changes_ and _hair _growth in weird places," Intrepid felt her face burn. Lux went scarlet. Ahsoka avoided Nava's eyes. Obi-wan chuckled.

"I'm so proud," Nava continued. "But…Your still children no matter how many slugs you've eaten, inches you've grown and mood changes you've had. Young, inexperienced, improvident younglings, and I refuse to let you stay here," she cajoled.

"Master," Intrepid dared to venture, despite failed attempts. "I know you're only trying to protect us, and I know your worried for us all," mostly her, though. Nava had lost an apprentice already. She had felt the pain of loss, and her over-protectiveness was a consequence of that, Intrepid knew. But a Jedi did not try to cling to things they cared for. All things died.

"But this is not about you, or us. This about _them_," she gestured to the empty streets, and, more importantly, beyond into the dozens and hundreds of homes. "Those that cannot protect themselves, those that need a hero down here, secluded from the light and the word of the laws we have sworn to uphold. We're here as Jedi, as _peacekeepers_, to help. And _that_ strife, no matter the dangers that possess it, are more important than our lives, your lives, or any other lives," she said, her voice strong with passion for this belief.

War had made them into warriors, but they could still be peacekeepers if they tried. Intrepid was trying. Nava's purple/blue eyes dug into Intrepid, searching for a loophole, searching for any doubt or uncertainty that she could hang unto and use. Intrepid met her eyes sagely, no doubt to be found there.

For a few moments, a mother's worry and a daughter's independence danced and fought one another, one bound by love and another of spirit. One fighting with all the ferocity and protectiveness she could, while the other stood solid against the onslaught, defiance and self-sufficiency closely linked, so much so that one could be mistaken for the other if not both angles were considered.

Nava Venerate was an open-minded and just woman.

At last, she sighed, and the hard rock of daughter independence won the round, glittering with sturdiness. "Spoken like a true Jedi Knight," Nava accepted, sadly. She put her hands on her hips, studying each face closely, as if she did not expect to see them again.

_Or see us as we are,_ Intrepid realized. Within a week, at most, she swiftly grasped that all three of them might be-probably would be-drastically different.

They would never be the same naïve, lively younglings. _Something_ would break and something new would grow in that broken something's place. An certain trait that was greater and stronger, but adult.

She was taking her last look at them as children.

"I suppose it would be foolish of me not to realize the inevitable," Nava said, as close as an official defeat as they would get. Intrepid stepped forward and grasped her mentor, her protector, her mother and friend by the forearms. She had never known her birth parents, but she had known Nava, and Yoda and a thousand other people who had come into their place.

Now she was saying goodbye.

"Milo ken Batswana Njoni tookoole, ken wa," she promised in her native tongue. _"I will prove my worth, teacher."_ Nava clasped Intrepid's arms in turn, eyes flittering with tears.

"Iodi near atabey bohio cacique yaque, jurakan," Nava replied, placidly, the tremble in her voice nicely concealed_. "Your worth is already immeasurable, child. Be wary,"_ a warning as old as time itself. One Intrepid would heed, in respect for the ones before her.

She would set an example for those after, as well, for she was ready.

* * *

Here begins a long series of individual POV's. Characterization, really. P.S, some of those parting words between Nava and Intrepid were actual words in an Central African language called Bantu (scarcely used anymore, I'm told) and an almost totally exctinct language by The Taino people. I just thought it'd be an interesting fact for any fellow linguists. :)

(Bantu) Njoni= come here

(Taino) Atabey= Goddess of freshwater fertility

(Taino) Bohio= A common Taino residence

(Taino) Cacique= male supreme chief

(Taino) Yaque= river


	9. Slightly naughty

**_Three weeks later:_**

~Nava's POV~

"You must be mad," she repeated, fully convinced of this. Obi-wan eyed her with unseeing pupils, yet he appeared perfectly calm and sane. Nava studied him fiercely, sure that he had cracked, and gone completely crazy.

"You want to…?" She was quieted by Obi-wan, who was leaning against the wall before her in a relatively secluded street, nevertheless, people streamed in and out of the alleyway, hoping to avoid some of the ferocious crowds elsewhere.

"As I recall, Master Jedi, it was _you _who said we cannot call attention to ourselves while we're here," Nava hissed back at him, crossing her arms, "I do not plan on getting_ caught_," Obi-wan replied, mildly. His hair shined dull bronze in the fading sunlight, catching her eyes.

"We didn't plan on ever falling in love, either, but these things happen," she countered. Obi-wan gave a small half-shrug. "It's the only way we're going to get close enough to Sidious," he told her. "But, it's illegal…" Nava again objected, most displeased with this plan.

Force, usually this would be the sort of thing she would deign to think up, but not _Obi-wan_, of all people.

"We have done plenty of illegal things, Nava," Obi-wan chuckled nonchalantly. "And in the end, no one would get severely damaged," yes, well, she had already deduced this, so why…?

"And it is the only possible solution I could think up on how to get all of our padawan's out of that dreadful pit of theirs," Obi-wan finished, seeing her undeveloped thought through some magic of his. Nava grinned, ah, so that was what had inspired the ever-grand master to think up this endeavor.

"You tried the impossible?" She wondered. As a Jedi, she had learned that often the impossible were the most and often not thought of possible. Annex had taught her that.

Obi-wan nodded and set one foot against the wall he was leaning against. "_Every_ solution," he repeated. Nava was sure that in the gearing minds of Obi-wan Kenobi, he very well had. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"This is our only option?" She asked. Obi-wan nodded and stepped forward, putting both hands on her shoulders. His face, hidden in the shadows of his robe, was kind. "Yes, and it will not only help our family, get us closer to the Sith and help turn the economy around for Courascant, but we'll be better off too," he added, squeezing her hard-packed shoulders.

He leaned in. "_Finally_, Nava, I will be able to give you everything you want and more. Can make you happy, at last. Give you the paradise you deserve," he whispered, as if this were his greatest secret.

Nava knew it was.

To others, Obi-wan Kenobi was an emotionless, sardonic Jedi Master with only a charming smile, flattering words and cunning mind, but Nava had known him since they were both younglings. They had shared pain, and love. Though they had been kept apart for fifteen years, that love had manifested within minutes. Love did not take lifetimes to grow, merely seconds to solidify.

She knew his heart better than she knew her own, and she saw what others did not see. She saw a _man_, a man who had been through war, loss, agony and grief more times than he deserved, a man who, despite all that, still had the courage to live and fight and care and be kind still.

As such, he was also extremely giving, indeed, he would give his own life if someone needed it, and she had never let herself consider all the things they could not give one another because of the Code, which had some truth to it.

A Jedi-a person- should not need anything but the force to survive. And love was, forever more, a part of the force, as all things were.

She did not need nor want anything but him, but Obi-wan would never accept this. He had never accepted himself like he did others. He did not think he was enough, when, to her, he was _everything_.

"Alright," she said, reluctantly, thinking of all the things she could give him, too. "We'll go and commit your crime. But I still think you're mad," his grin confirmed his gratitude in her agreeing.

As if she could ever argue with Obi-wan for too long anyway. "Yes," he agreed, in his usually monologue tone, hiding his true feelings. "Being around Anakin too long will do that to a person," he said.

* * *

~Unknown POV~

As a child, many people did not stop to realize that one of their classmate's greatest aspirations was to be a bank security guard. This was just the case for Osric.

He had kept his dreams to himself, for a time, but ultimately, he knew what he had wanted to become the first day he had arrived on Courascant, a poor immigrant child with his parents, looking for a better life after his planet was destroyed by plague and drought.

The _National Bank of Courascant _was held near the City Hall, standing proud just a few blocks from-or, what used to be-the Senate Building, and was the largest recorded bank in all the galaxy.

When his parents had arrived, toting him after them in the hurried streets of the Planet, he had stared up at the vast walls and circular cathedrals with awe. Nothing on his past agricultural planet had been this grand.

He had marveled at the professional looking lady's who sat at the hundreds of desks lining one wall, of all different species and colors and languages. He had gawked at the credits being exchanged, wealth and riches all stored here, in some even grander vault in this grand place.

Wealth and money that had been stolen away from him by nature and the cruelty of life, but given to him, placed in his hands with trust and reliance now. This money and these riches represented _everything_ on Courascant, from the greedy politicians that had helped the Sith Sidious rise to power, to the modest working people who had been forced to watch their world recede into madness without say or choice in the outcome. But they could have a say here; they had placed him here to protect those riches. And he would.

So his dream had been born. Twenty years later, it had been fulfilled.

Until now.

When Osric woke up, his head was ringing with the most unpleasant buzzing he had ever encountered in his lifetime. He groaned softly and slowly raised his hands to his forehead, struggling to comprehend several things. One of which was his exact location. With much struggling, he opened his eyes, and cried out when the blaring sight of lights hit them.

Too bright!

"Osric!" Oh, that just made things horribly worse. Someone was yelling; now? Good Zonz, why him? Forcing himself to be observant, Osric opened his eyes again, and focused on the head blurring the lights mercifully.

It was his partner, Ahanu. The Rodian, dressed in the same uniform as Osric, peered down at him with concern. "Osric, can you hear me?" Came the slightly scratchy and accented voice. "Copy that," Osric mumbled, willing the world to cease its infernal spinning at once.

The world took extreme pleasure in doing the complete opposite. It spun faster.

"Good! Osric is okay!" Ahanu called back to somebody. "What…?" Osric mumbled, as the world slowed in its oscillation. "What… Happened?" He asked. Ahanu put a hand on his shoulder. "Slow down there, my friend. Rest a bit. You were clean knocked out, though I don't know how yet," he was told. Osric nodded and closed his eyes again.

Suddenly, the memory of what had ensued an hour earlier popped into his head. He sat bolt upright, ignoring the dizzying feeling in his head and the murderous thumping of his heart. "The vault!" he gasped.

He swiveled around, straining to get a good look at the vault where over six-hundred trillion dollars worth of credits were stored and he had been guarding for over five years.

No one, interminably in the history of the Republic, of The Jedi Order, of The Sith, of Courascant, of _ever_, had ever gotten past security and into the vaults…

Which were _completely_ empty.


	10. Sold

**_A Week later:_**

~Anakin's POV~

Anakin had, in the three weeks on Courascant, fixed the oven, reinstalled the kitchen cabinets, ousted the rat from the toilet, mended the creaking stairs, acquired new windows (the junkyard had_ everything_ on Courascant) torn out the fraying rug, and now, he was almost finished repairing their fried plumbing system too. Force, he already _hated_ Courascant.

Using every ounce of his Jedi strength, he squeezed the wrench and attempted to turn the bolt back into place on the facet in the bathroom. Downstairs, Padme served the twins a meal of quickly prepared and slightly expired oatmeal.

"Time for breakfast!" Padme called up; intentionally not using his name, until they knew their neighbors; no one could suspect them of anything. Already, Padme had died her hair golden blonde and Anakin his a starch black.

The twins, for some reason, had wanted stark, shining _orange_ hair, and their wish had been reluctantly granted.

"I'll be… Down in a…Minute!" Anakin called back hoarsely, still wrestling with the device for control over the sink. This wretched thing had a personal agenda against him, he could swear. And it was blasted…Not…Letting him…win! Not even Dooku had been this hard to handle!

_ The great Hero with No fear, _he thought hotly. _Defeated by a sink facet! Oh, over my dead body! _He doubled his efforts, stubborn against the onslaught of immaterial strength.

"Your oatmeal will get cold!" Padme admonished. Anakin huffed and let go, panting. Almost seven years of war, and he could not even fix a stupid sink. "Let it then!" He yelled back, frustrated.

"Motha!" Leia's voice, carried and heard only by keen Jedi ears, said excitedly. "Someone robbed th' bank of Courascant!" Anakin bolted upright so quickly he banged his head against the interior of the cabinet where the under-proceedings of the facet took place. "What!?" he cried, at the same time as Padme gasped out the same word.

"The money's all gone!" Leia repeated. "Ouch!" Anakin rubbed the bruised place of his temple, all the more enraged now. "Goodness!" he heard Padme exclaim. "She's right! Come down here! Someone robbed the _National Bank of Courascant_!" Padme gasped. Anakin stood and ran downstairs to hear the news.

* * *

_~Another_ unknown POV~

Lael Thoth's great-great-great-great-great grandparents had fought and died for this wealth. They had struggled and fought, risking lives and liberty against their enemies. He had been told the story many times as a boy, and had admired his ancestor's skill, bravery and resourcefulness. Now, their long-fought for treasure was his.

And he loved to waste it on nothing.

Granted, his five times great grandparents had probably been very strong, integral and honorable people, deserving of the wealth they had accumulated. Never the matter they had accumulated it through the slave market. They had _earned_ it.

He had just inherited it.

And as such, also inherited his third great grandparents industry. Thoth Co, already more than fifty years old. Specializing mostly in trade and marketing, Thoth Co gave everyone that which they needed at all times.

It had_ flourished _during The Clone Wars, and was one of the largest companies on market now. He had been, once upon a time, number_ two_ on the richest men in the trade business list, second only to Tyrion Alwari. He had once owned more than twenty-five star cruisers and more than two thirds of all marketing businesses around.

He had been on top of the galaxy.

Until he had sold his business.

_ Sold_ it, for no more than two thousand credits, to a complete stranger. Lael was starting to believe that maybe, just perhaps, it had been a_ tremendously_ bad idea to arrive at this meeting with this silver-tongued stranger drunk past all reason.

He had done it before of course, but those wimps had feared him, respected and bowed down before his wealth. This stranger, he could not even describe if asked. He had been too drunk.

All he knew was that Thoth Co, handed down to him from five generations, had been sold to this person.

He could not even recall whether or not they had been male or female. Maybe both. He had heard both tones of voice. Maybe. He had also been very drunk, overly drunk to, in actuality; recall anything.

_ Could it have been a Sith trick?_ He pondered bitterly, the haziness of his alcohol draining now to leave him with this reality, the fickle thing of his nightmares. He had just given away his livelihood, his future and family fortune to a complete and utter stranger.

It had to have been a Sith trick. He had heard of it often enough. Or had he? Blast, he was still drunk! Blast! Blast! Blast it all!

"Where would you like to go, sir?" His driver, who mysteriously had eight tentacles, asked him as they zoomed down the highways. Lael huffed impatiently and glanced out the window. His reputation, surely, would be ruined by now. Word had probably already spread; such was the wonders of media hype and journalists.

A businessman; revered in every holo-article and having been interviewed by every talk show host on the holo-vision and net had given his company up for not even twenty-five percent of what it had been worth? And without the council of his elected committees? And without notice, letters, and to a complete stranger?

All because he had been drunk.

"Take me to my private landing pad, driver," he slurred out, hoping the message got across. If not, he would not only speak but upchuck his deluxe dinner he had eaten the night before all over the leather seats of this vehicle. "I will go to my summer house on Naboo," he coughed out, making that decision. Naboo _was _very nice all year round.

Then again, how would he continue to pay for the summer-house he held so dear?

_ Blasted Sith tricked me out of everything,_ he cursed, though not overly worried. People like him would always survive. Indeed, he had no more time to worry over the newest development. Ten seconds later; he solved one problem by readmitting his entire dinner plate and desert unto the floor.


	11. Billionaires

~Anakin's POV~

"I can't believe it," Padme mumbled, staring at the data-pad placed in her lap. Her own bowl of untouched oatmeal steamed across from him.

Anakin sipped his caf thoughtfully, a tad worried. Who could have pulled such a heist? "No one has ever managed to get into that bank," she contemplated.

"Could it have been Sith?" Anakin asked aloud. Padme shook her head. "I don't think so, unless they really hate Sidious with a zealous sort of passion, because this puts a deterrent on him and his popularity. He will have to refund_ all_ those credits out of the treasury by law, unless he wants a planetary revolt, that is," she said, with a touch of a smile on her lips.

Anakin chuckled. "It could not have been a Sith then, because they certainly helped the Rebels," he pointed out. Padme nodded, her eyes gleaming.

"Yes. Now Sidious will have less money to fight us, since that is a very good amount he will have to compensate for, and his already horrible good record with the people goes down the toilet too. Our cause will become even more admired," she sniggered.

Anakin leaned back in his seat. Luke and Leia had their heads down, pretending not to listen. Anakin was well aware they were.

Despite the bonus points for him and the Rebels against the Empire, the bank robber still worried him. In this new location, information and knowledge were vital tools, and besides, whoever had performed the most extravagant heist in all of Republic history was obviously a very skilled criminal, and that was worrisome.

Where would his next crime spree come from?

What else would that person rob? And what was the agenda? Where would the money go too? No, there was something more going on here.

Could it have been Starkiller? No, he did not know where Anakin had gone, or did he? But what was robbing a _bank_ going to do about it? He might as well just have turned them over to Sidious.

_Maybe he is playing with me_, the thought unnerved him. He glanced at Luke and Leia worriedly. He would die before he saw any harm come to his children; that fact was one of the only he was sure of entirely.

"Remember your force signature, Luke," he chided, realizing that a force mark pulled at him. Luke quickly obeyed, and Anakin settled back down.

He knew how difficult it was, but with the amount of Sith on Courascant, they could not afford to do such a thing. And as strong in the force as Luke and Leia were? He shivered. What had they been _thinking_, coming here?

Suddenly, a honk directed his attention outside. Padme looked up from the newscaster, who was explaining more of the grand act. Her brow crinkled worriedly, and he saw her hand creep down to her back pocket. Her eyes hardened over like ice on a pond.

No doubt, she had a blaster stored there. Since none of them had left the house yet for lack of civilian clothing, Anakin's saber was clipped to his belt. He put a hand on the comforting metal and stood. Luke and Leia watched tensely, knowing, somehow without being told that death could lay outside.

Anakin moved to the window and stirred aside the small, ripped and smelly curtain blocking the rest of the world from seeing inside. His mouth dropped. Was that….?

"Obi-wan? Nava?" Padme spoke aloud, shocked, as she came up behind him. Anakin was so surprised he forgot to remind her not speak those names aloud. They were too well known. "Obi!" Leia breathed, in such relief as a four year old should not know. "Nava!" Luke added, scrambling down from his chair enthusiastically.

Anakin jumbled at the door, what in the _blazes_? What was…? Padme put a hand over his, more successful in turning the knob. Just as she did however, the door was opened.

Without further ado, two very familiar people strutted in, accompanied by a large Wookie who stared them down with formidable black eyes. Luke and Leia halted dead in their tracks, staring.

"Hello, dear children!" Nava greeted cheerily. She came in, her long black hair dangling behind her in a beautiful blend of thousands of micro braids that waved with her every move like an undulating ocean. Small twists of color had been braided into her hair, making it sparkle even further.

She was wearing a short dark purple dress. Starting from left shoulder to under her right breast and continuing down below her right arm was a strap of sparkling diamonds. Hanging unto this strap was a luminous see-through purple fabric, which flowed around her right arm loosely.

The dress was modestly short, ending just below the knees. On her neck strung a magnificent necklace of red rubies. Anakin's jaw nearly dropped. He had never seen Nava in such…Lovely clothing and conspicuous garb. He had seen Padme in it, of course, but Nava…?

Obi-wan followed her, and Anakin was sure he went pale. Padme inhaled sharply. Though dressed more simply, with a mere black suit and purple tie, Obi-wan's hair…It was different. For one, his bang was gone, leaving his entire face open for speculation.

His hair had been swept back with some expensive gel that smelled like sweet and gentle things. His azure eye sparkled brighter in the dark colors and... Was he taller?

He no longer looked like Obi-wan, and Nava was… She was not Nava. No way. The smallest things such as hair and dress altered them completely.

"_Who_ are you?" Anakin gasped out, breaking the silence. Obi-wan did not answer, instead, waved at the Wookie behind him dismissively. "Thank you, Doe. We will be safe now. Wait out in the speeder presently. We won't take long," he promised. The Wookie gave a single snort of compliance and took his leave silently.

Anakin gawked at Obi-wan. Padme gaped equivalently at Nava. For a moment, all further words were lost to the mental universe within them. "Obi!" Leia said first. "Your eyes aren't pretty no mo!" She pointed accusingly at Obi-wan's blind eyes, momentarily ocean blue. _How,_ without the force?

"Contacts," Obi-wan explained, with a flicker of a smile at him. He knelt down as Leia ran up, and picked her up. Luke, deciding that the strangers in fancy clothing were indeed his family, bounded after her.

Nava scooped him into her arms energetically, as was her trademark. "Ah, Luke! We brought you a bunch of new toys!" Nava said; she swooped Luke through the air, eyes gleaming.

Anakin had rarely seen her so excited. "We're rich beyond bounds, boy!" She celebrated. Luke laughed loudly, misunderstanding her excitement for happily ever after.

"What is going on?" Anakin cried, confused and stunned, but somehow overjoyed. "Your master is a kriffing _genius_, that's what," Nava nudged Obi-wan pointedly. He shrugged and pulled at his collar. "I rather don't like the posh belongings and grandeur, but it has to be done," he contemplated. Nava rolled her eyes.

"Modest until the end," she snorted. "What _happened_ to you two?" Padme asked, snapping back into her senses. She walked over and fingered Nava's dress, eyes glittering with amusement.

"The dress suits you. I approve," she chuckled. Nava grinned. "Thank you my friend. It wasn't my first pick, of course, but I do think it rather compliments me," she said, almost bashfully. Anakin walked up to Obi-wan, studying him dubiously.

"Well?" Obi-wan inquired, undaunted. Anakin forced a grin. "You look like Qui-gon," he confessed. Obi-wan seemed surprised by this answer. He looked down at himself, incredulous.

"I do?" he echoed. Anakin nodded. "You do. Now how did you two afford all his finery? And what was with the Wookie?" He asked, once more.

Obi-wan smiled slyly. "Have you heard of the bank raid that occurred recently?" He asked. Anakin nodded, wondering what that could have to do with anything.

"Well," Nava and Obi-wan shared a glance. "Let's merely say it was easier than we thought it would be," Obi-wan said. The truth bowled him over like a passing tornado. Anakin felt his jaw go slack. Padme, as well, turned ashen pale. She wobbled, close to fainting.

"You…You robbed _The National Bank of Courascant_?" She choked out breathlessly, clapping a hand to her chest. "Lower your voice," Nava hushed, glancing at the walls as if they would hear and suddenly reveal all secrets to the rest of the universe.

Anakin placed a hand on his mentor's shoulder, steadying himself. He felt the world spin with incredulity. "You robbed something?" He could not believe it. Obi-wan was the perfect Jedi, the most law-abiding, peace-loving, honest, upright goody-two-shoes there had ever been. He had pulled one of the largest heists in galactic history?

_Without_ Anakin?

"We did," Obi-wan corrected. "It was quite fun," Nava agreed. Padme stared at Anakin. "But…You can't just…Oh, _blast_…." She stuttered. "As if you have never disobeyed a law, Padme," Nava sniggered, watching her hyperventilate.

Anakin was still staring at Obi-wan, pondering if the man in front of him was in fact an imposter. He was dressed like it.

"Me, yah, and Ani. But you two? Pulling the prime criminal misdemeanor in history? How…?" Padme blinked rapidly, as if trying to wake herself up from a nightmare. "So it's alright if you two pull a major crime, but not us?" Obi-wan demanded. "YES!"

"You're too _proper_ to be a felon," Anakin pointed out. Obi-wan sighed and crossed his arms, not agreeing or disagreeing with this opinion. "Yes, well, leaving this subject behind, we've brought some supplies for you. Then we have to head back to the company," Anakin dared not ask what he meant by company. Padme had no such scruples.

"Company?" She asked. "Yes," Nava said quickly. "We bought Thoth Co. from the owner. The poor fool was drunk at the meeting, so it was relatively easy to mind trick him," she called over her shoulder as she stuck her head out of the door ad beckoned to someone outside.

"_Thoth Co.?_ One of the largest marketing and trade corporations in the galaxy? Owned by the second richest man on Courascant?" Now Padme slumped against the staircase next to her.

"Don't act so surprised," Obi-wan scolded. "We can be delinquents when we wish it," Anakin crossed his arms, saying nothing. Wondering what these gifts were, and how he would politely decline them.

Obi-wan seemed to have read his mind or heart, whichever one handled these situations, and leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Worry not, Anakin. I knew you would want to earn your own living. And force forbid I step on the boundaries of your manhood and independence. We brought only the bare basics, to help you get started."

Anakin let out a slow breath and looked at his mentor, who knew him better than he had thought, apparently. "Thank you, master," he said gratefully. Obi-wan shrugged. "You're not one to rely and depend on others. Nor would I want you to be. Our time here will be hard enough. Imagine, I am being forced to become a large corporation owner and_ politician_ now," Obi-wan visibly shuddered. Anakin chuckled softly.

"You'll fit the role well," he reminded his teacher. He fingered the expensive fabric. "You were born to stuff like this," he observed. Obi-wan's face was a mask. "Hopefully I don't become like my parents," he mumbled.

Anakin blinked; Obi-wan's biological parents had been arrogant, selfish, greedy wealthy individuals who had tried to drown their first born and other children to secure their fortune would always remain in their hands.

"Um, yah," he rubbed the back of his neck, as if in thought; though he knew Obi-wan would not be able to see the gesture. "Master, do you even know _how_ to be self-centered; or materialistic or…Anything bad?" he inquired. "Yes," Obi-wan snorted.

"Really? I don't see it. Are you sure? I don't even think you can yawn during one of Yoda's speeches without feeling bad, so I'm not sure… Ouch! Hay! It's true!" he defended as he rubbed his left ear, sore from where Obi-wan had clotted it.

Obi-wan was smiling, though. "I suppose that was a no, then," he finished. Anakin nodded. "You're a great man, brothem," he reminded the Jedi master meaningfully.

"Don't you soften me up. You're getting no other gift but this," he pulled a small envelope from his back pocket and placed it in Anakin's hand. Anakin opened his mouth, an objection ready on his tongue but Obi-wan had already closed his fingers around the envelope, an inexplicable smile on his face. The packet was heavy, Anakin could feel the surface of credits underneath his fingertips, teasing.

"Don't protest," his old teacher warned softly. "Consider it your late wedding present, from all of us," he glanced away, and Anakin felt a familiar force signatures waft past him, dancing at the edge of his senses teasingly. _Qui-gon. Tahl. Shmi._

"You deserve it, now come see the toys we brought your twins, and don't you dare open it until I leave," he instructed in a voice that permitted no disagreement. Anakin scowled, instantly curious as to what the envelope contained, but nodded.

Obi-wan had said not to open it until later, why though?

"Anakin! Look at this necklace Nava bought me!" Padme squeaked, as Nava presented her own gift. "Fatha I got an Artoo unit like you!" Luke suddenly screamed, ecstatic.

Anakin looked down to see a miniature gold tinted droid, whom beeped enthusiastically as Luke wrapped his arms around it. "Fatha, I got a ball gown!" Leia added to this frenzy. Anakin laughed as his wife and children flocked him, showing off their presents.

He looked up, intending to thank Obi-wan and Nava, but both of his surrogate parents had vanished.

Padme followed his eyes, and the bright grin on her face faded. "We did not even get a chance to thank them," she murmured. Anakin shook his head. "I assume that is why they left," he agreed forlornly.

Eagerly, he handed her the envelope. "He told me not to open it until he had gone," he explained, as Padme turned the unadorned paper over in her hands a few times, trying to discern why Anakin had passed it to her.

"I'm afraid he might have put a venomous spider in it. You open it," he joked. Padme cast him an amused grin and shook her head. Luke and Leia looked up, expectantly awaiting the spider to make its appearance.

Anakin endured patiently. In truth, he did not want to open it himself because of the strange, sad smile on Obi-wan's face as he had deigned it to Anakin.

Padme opened the envelope, and the jingle of credits was the first sound. Padme's eyes widened. "What?" Anakin cried, his heart skipping a beat. His wife ignored him, instead snatching out a neatly folded piece of paper.

Quickly, Padme's eyes skimmed down the page. She placed a delicate hand over her mouth, tears of amazement and delight welling in her eyes.

Anakin's heart speed increased.

"What is it, Padme?" He demanded again. "Oh, Ani. He's the best. He made sure of _everything_," Padme whispered. "Who? Obi?" Leia asked. Anakin, unable to stand the suspense any longer, ripped the paper from her hand. In Obi-wan's delicate, elaborate and overall scenic handwriting, a small note was inscribed.

_Anakin,_

_I knew we'd have to go down a road one day where you would need this. In truth, it was Siri's idea, so don't thank me. I confiscated these credits the minute I heard you were married. I had an idea you and Padme would have to navigate your way through the real world without my guidance. You'll see an address and picture of your new mechanics shop in the envelope, and the credits enough to buy it. Being the eldest of one of the richest families in the galaxy comes with some reward, I suppose. Negotiate wisely._

_-Obi-wan._

Anakin's entire body imploded as Padme dug through the envelope, searching for the picture and address. Obi-wan had spent the money he inherited from his rich parents…On Anakin? On a mechanics shop, which he knew would be Anakin's dream, just to work on droids all day long?

And he had never said a word until now. How had he known when Anakin would use it? He had given Anakin not only a means to survive; and provide for his family but make a living the way _he_ wanted and be his _own_ leader of his own establishment.

Obi-wan had given him an opportunity to be a man, and a husband and a father, and a boss, he had just handed Anakin the life he could have lived had he never been picked up by the Jedi. And he had done it using _his_ inheritance money, money that was his by birthright and to use as he saw fit.

He just saw it fit to give it to Anakin.

_You gave me a new life. You blasted man,_ Anakin thought numbly, as he replaced the letter with the sweet touch of credits. Dozens of credits that were worth _thousands_ of dollars… Anakin could have screamed for joy. As it was, he was breathless.

Padme laughed happily. "Obi-wan, you old _fool_, you just made the worst business decision ever," she cursed. Anakin had to agree with her, in every good way. He had the urge to haul Obi-wan into a tight hug, strangle him with affection and thank him twenty-eight hundred times over. Instead, he squared his shoulders and vowed to make Obi-wan proud.

* * *

Hey everyone, thank you for all my reviews and double thank you for the encouragement, it means a lot. So listen, I would appreciate it if everyone woudld keep an eye out for superfluous use of comma's. I've been told that I am overly _comma crazy_ by my teachers, and I've been trying to tone it down a bit, but I'm accustomed to that style, you know? So it'd be a great help if you guys could keep me down to wraps on that one. After all, we are all works in progress, eh? =)

~Queen Yoda


	12. New friends

**_A month later, in the bowels of Courascant:_**

~Lux's POV~

"Up, men, time to get a move on! Come on, up!" Lamar Rai-as Lux had taken his counterfeit name to be- was jolted out of peaceful slumber and into cruel awareness by the brusque and earsplitting voice of General Damara. His eyes snapped open at once.

Groggily he pulled the thin quilt over his head, shivering with the morning chill, which crept in through the metal walls and lingered over them all like a curse.

"Rai!" Of course he would. Lux could swear that his_ entire_ life now consisted of being yelled at. Granted, on the battlefields of the Rebel Alliance, there, too, was much yelling, but when you were firing at the enemy and they back at you, and with the constant hum of a Jedi lightsaber near your face, the last thing you thought of was the_ noise_.

Now, it was purely impossible to miss it, and Lux dearly wished he could. He sighed loudly and then shuddered violently as the covers-which Lux was sure had been atop him a second ago- were uncouthly snatched off. At least droids had some politeness about them, and the clones genial regard and everyone else absolute respect.

"Rise and shine, boys!" Damara shouted forcefully, his harsh voice ringing through the dim building. Groans and mumbles spread about begrudgingly. Lux sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

Not even the academy that The _Separatists _had sent him too had been this harsh. "Ah, come on, sir!" A still sleepy voice coughed. "It's not even dawn yet!" This reply was rewarded with a sharp wallop on the knee with the general's esteemed walking staff, appropriately nicknamed Whacker.

"Who else wants a taste of Whacker?" Well, Lux was tired, not suicidal. Scrambling out from his bed, he stood, watching the giant Trandoshan warily. The red and black scales of the male lizard flared then died down as he growled, marching down the long row of beds with large, scaled hands folded behind his back.

Predatory, slated eyes flicked back and forth. . "Crime does not follow _your_ clock, maggot," The general stated coldly.

Lux looked over at his friends, standing next to their own bunks beside his. Both walls of their extensive sleeping structure, Homestead fx-6 were lined with identical, dowdy and gray beds, with dozens of trainees for the job of patrol men of the Courascant underground, like Lux. The overhead lights flashed on, emitting more cries of protest as the light awakened more people.

Maxell and Cent were both older than he was. The former by one year, and the latter by two. Cent was a humanoid with stark red skin and a long, whipping tail that had sprouted out of his buttocks. Maxell was a Nautolan, with likewise flickering head tails, twelve in all, and pale brown skin.

"I want all troops awake and in the mess in ten minutes! Now MOVE!" The booming voice startled everyone, even Lux. He sighed and moved towards the crowd of trainees, grumbling, as they headed to the toilets and freshers. "This is going to be a long day," Maxell sighed, as he jogged beside Lux. General Damara sauntered out, on his way to yell and degrade the other cadets.

_ Long day indeed,_ Lux thought, as he shook his head. Blast, he had been able to keep up with _Jedi,_ and yet this training camp was a challenge. He wondered what Ahsoka would have to say about it.

"Wonder what insidious trap the general has for us in the mess," Cent added, stretching his long limbs. "What?" Lux teased. "You think he'll shoot us all on sight once we arrive?" he asked. "Wouldn't put it past the old biter, and his stupid stick," Maxell mumbled dejectedly.

Lux had to nod in agreement. "He's only having a bad day," he offered, remembering Luke and his consideration. Cent chuckled lightly. "Your sense of humor passes all bounds, Lamar," he said.

Lux shrugged, as they entered the freshers. "Eh, you get used to it," _with a family like mine. _

* * *

~Obi-wan's POV~

He hated being blind. There were not many things that Obi-wan wanted in life, A Jedi was trained against worldly desires, but Obi-wan_ did_ want his eyes back.

He wanted to see color and texture, depth and distance. He wanted to know that even if he could not sense it, he could see it. That he was not vulnerable. Yet, that was not the case.

Despite this, he was not a cripple. And he was not an idiot.

As much as Obi-wan utterly despised politics and the long process of business marketing, he had wonderful ideas for the expansion of his new work force. Feverishly, his fingers worked at copying down his new ideas unto his computer, which screen lay before him. Truthfully, Obi-wan could not see a single thing of what he was typing.

This fact was not the most important, though. What was important was that he had the entire plan already memorized. He would just need something to show his new council. They could not memorize every tiny detail if he just spoke it, no, most beings needed…

_ My new committee. _

Obi-wan chuckled mirthlessly and let his fingers go slack on the keys. The unrelenting drumming was lost to the air. He leaned back in his chair, and glanced around at his personal office again, at the top-most tower in the miles long building.

Nava had described the look of it to him, since he could not see for himself, and in reality, Obi-wan still could not fully believe all this-everything here-was his. All his.

He was also unsure whether he liked that or not.

In his life, he had been given few things that had been truly _his_. And now…Now the planet Courascant was his to own, a whole corporation with committees, councils, workers and people who all followed him and his every word.

What he did could destroy thousands of lives or create hundreds of better opportunities. He had led armies before, but never this. This was a whole different sort of army. One without blasters, Cody, clones, droids or Jedi.

_You aren't Obi-wan Kenobi anymore,_ he thought, almost sadly. He knew that inside, he still was. He was Obi-wan, the perfect Jedi, The _Negotiator,_ the flawless gentlemen; and the man the galaxy had always loved.

But outside? Outside he was Osiris Aethra, owner of one of the largest companies on planet, businessperson, and entrepreneur. That fact, if nothing else, scared the daylights out of him; and suddenly Obi-wan felt completely alone for the first time in a long while.

Breaking him out of his thoughts was the small chime on his door. He perked up, sensing two bodies outside of his door. Though he had to hide his own force signature, and evidently not use it at all, he could still recognize the familiar force signature of Anda, his personal supervisor.

"Come in, Anda," he called, straightening in his seat. On cue, the young woman, about the age of Ahsoka, waltzed in cheerily. "Good afternoon, Mr. Aethra," she chirped. Obi-wan smiled, always so cheerful, that girl.

"Hello," he greeted merely. She walked over and set down his cup of tea. "Your tea, sir," she presented grandly. Obi-wan nodded his thanks and listened for the sound of the cup being set down on the table before him. His hand moved in that general direction and found it without incident.

"And Mr. Aethra, you have a guest," he raised his eyebrows as he put the cup to his lips, sipping. He scowled, wondering if he had booked any appointments for the moment. After a quick roundabout of his memory, he concluded that he had done no such thing. "Really?" he asked.

Anda nodded. "Yes, sir. He doesn't have an appointment, but …" She trailed off, torn between her last saying. "And?" Obi-wan prompted gently. "Well, sir, I would meet him if I were you, not that it's my place to tell," she explained quickly.

Obi-wan cocked an eyebrow and regarded the feminine blob of white before him.

"Why?" he inquired, curious. "Who is this person?" he asked. "His name is Tyrion Alwari, mayhap you've heard of him?" Obi-wan blinked, surprised. Heard of him? Who hadn't? Tyrion Alwari was the richest man on Courascant, and owned the largest business, surpassing his own.

What did the man want with him?

Several different explanations ran through Obi-wan's mind at once. He waved his hand. "Marvelous. Let him in," he said calmly. Anda nodded and turned on her heel without another word. Obi-wan inhaled, wishing suddenly that he had paid more heed to Alwari's name. He did not know much of the wealthy billionaire besides the common rumor.

He hated being unprepared.

"Mr. Alwari," he welcomed, standing, as another blob came in. Obi-wan's mind made a quick examination of him. He appeared to be Obi-wan's height, a burly, stout man with a head of gelled hair which had no color to Obi-wan. He was humanoid, obviously.

His force signature did not flare with trickery, but without the means of which to _use_ the force, Obi-wan could not dig deeper into this. He cursed the Sith, Sidious and Bruck to the deepest ditches of the universe.

"Mr. Aethra," A smooth and low voice said as the businessman stopped before his desk, grabbing Obi-wan's hand to shake genially. Obi-wan sensed the movement of the man's eyes, flicking back and forth to notice the humble design of Obi-wan's office.

"It is good to meet you, sir," he said. Obi-wan fulfilled that this man was no fool. "The pleasure is mine, of course. Please, have a seat. I shall send Anda for refreshments," he nodded towards the blob in the doorway. Anda nodded back and vanished, closing the door behind her.

Tyrion Alwari sat in the chair opposite to Obi-wan's. Sitting himself, Obi-wan leaned forward, tapping his fingers together casually. "What may I do for you, Mr. Alwari?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

"A man of curt words, fabulous. Well, to tell you the absolute truth, Mr. Aethra, I came here to deduce whether I could flatter you into selling me this company. Now that I've arrived, however, I can see that you aren't one of those young, avaricious simpletons who I can manipulate easily," he explained, as if speaking of the weather.

_Lesson one: everyone thinks I'm an idiot. _Obi-wan, despite the…Brutal discourteousness of this remark, was interested in this man. "I'm glad you deduced this so quickly. It will make our conversation smoother," he observed, lightly.

"So, since I'm not a young, greedy idiot, what do you presume to do now?" He asked. His opponent leaned back in his seat, and folded one leg nonchalantly over the other. "Tell me, Mr. Aethra, have you ever read the stories of Ta-doa Ar?" he asked. Obi-wan showed none of his inner confusion.

"Yes, of course," he answered. "Really? Where did you find it? I have done extensive research and found it is only available in some places," force, this man was clever.

Obi-wan had read the stories of course, at age sixteen, and like Tyrion said, they were rare copies. Only five existed in the entire galaxy. The one he had read had been in the Jedi temple.

_ He's trying to figure out where I come from. _

But why? What could that information do for Alwari? Obi-wan decided to stall. "Are you familiar with the great Library of Maia?" He inquired, in counter attack. This sort of verbal sparring was something he usually could not do with most people. Even Nava would not have thought of that, neither Padme.

The thrill of battle filled him with excitement.

"The Great library of Maia?" Alwari repeated, apparently surprised. Obi-wan could sense his face being studied. He remained emotionless. He had Alwari on his guard now.

"No, I have not," of course he had not, because it was a secret, underground library that Obi-wan had stumbled upon with Qui-gon when he was sixteen. It was on a planet so far out in the outer rim that most people did not even know the planet existed.

"You have not? A pity. It's such a beautiful place," that was true, at least. "Anyhow, that's where I found a sixth copy of the stories of Ta-doa Ar," he explained.

"A _sixth_?" Now he was under deep scrutiny. "But, Mr. Aethra, if you found a sixth, why not bring it back?" He asked. Obi-wan's lie was already fabricated. "The natives, you see," he explained, woefully.

"It is on a planet in the outer rim, surely you know what sort of raucous barbarians live out there?" _Anakin, forgive me, but somehow you come to mind_.

"Anyway, the exact definition of barbarians does not actually mean completely brainless. The people of this planet had built up a giant library, and guarded its secrets with their lives. I was allowed to go in for the pure reason that I had a great collection of works myself that they desperately wanted. And curious man that I am, struck a deal with the natives. I went in to read, they got my books. Quite a nice trade, don't you think? Knowledge for knowledge?" He was on a roll now. He was almost proud of himself for his eloquent lie.

Alwari did not seem impressed. "I see. So, you managed to read the entire thing?" At Obi-wan's nod, he went on. "Hmm, then what opinions might you have on chapter twenty-eight, paragraph ten?" He wondered.

_ Trying to test my political ties, my friend? Oh, you are a worthy opponent. _Obi-wan was enticed to laugh at the attempt.

"Oh, about the dictatorship? Funny you should ask, sir, because it brings to mind my current situation," that ploy worked. Alwari's fingers came together in his lap, thoughtfully.

"Do tell," he lured. "Yes, well, if you will recall, the great nation of the Scargs was in danger of failing economically, and the heroine was trying his best to stop such a happening, and in the end became all powerful corrupt master himself," Alwari nodded.

"So what is it that separates us from the dictators, hmm? It is pure nature to want control of our lives and futures, and to control our own lives, we must ultimately control the happenings around us. So, places, people, etc…And isn't that a dictatorship in itself? Dictating what happens to us and the people around us so that our futures end up as we wish it?" he asked.

This bit of deep thinking caught the politician off guard. "You're saying we're all dictators," he summed up. Obi-wan nodded. "In our own way," he agreed. "After all, what would you do to make sure your company stays intact? That your life stays its smooth course? You came here to try and cheat me out of what is mine, and had I been a lesser man, you would have succeeded. Isn't that a bit of evil reckoning? The evilness we accuse others of?"

Force, he really should not have been able to ponder all this. He was going to induce self-madness with this line of complicated thinking. It struck Alwari dumb, though.

"It is survival," he pointed out, a bit uncertainly. "True," Obi-wan agreed again. "And is your survival any more important than mine? I'm sure our current Emperor values the thought of surviving as well. Yet how many is he willing to kill to live? Politics are all about the best and better. But who we to choose who is best and better? That is the decision of a dictator, to try and determine these things. Now, life comes with this contradiction, and sometime you've just got to say that your survival is more important, but when it becomes your_ life_ to survive, then why are you any different than any despot?" He asked.

_Force, Obi-wan, don't totally annihilate the poor man,_ Qui-gon whispered into his ear, a tad worriedly. _Quiet, Master, I'm making friends_, he thought back.

Alwari, despite his defeat in this battle of words, laughed uproariously. "Brilliant, sir! Mr. Aethra, I have the pleasure of saying I have no clue what in the blazes you were talking about!" He chuckled. Obi-wan smiled.

"Most people find they don't," he confessed. Alwari only laughed again. "Bravo, man! It's been years since I had a suitable companion with which to banter words with and actually have an equal chance at it! Blast, I lost track of our conversation long ago. I don't know a thing about you," he seemed delighted by this. Obi-wan found he was actually very delighted himself.

"You are a worthy opponent," he said. "I certainly hope so. We'll be great friends indeed," Obi-wan chuckled. "I concur. Would you like to continue this sport of words? First man to get confused loses," he dared, as eager as a small child who has finally found a friend who loves the same odd entities as himself. "By all means, you begin."

So, Obi-wan found a new friend.

* * *

Obi-wan and his new friend will have plenty of conversations like this in the future. Also, though it won't be prominent, I really do wish to show how his blindness hinders him in these certain aspects.

~Queen Yoda


	13. New missions

~Padme's POV~

Padme Amidala loved her children; she loved them more than the sunshine, than the Rebels, than the entire universe and every life in it. She loved them more than_ her_ life.

But blast, she hated just _sitting_ here.

"Luke," she warned distantly, as her son reached for the shiny object- ostensibly a knife-on the kitchen counter next to her. "What have I told you about knives?" She demanded, not looking away from what the screen of the holo-vision told her.

The excitement outside these stupid walls.

"Knives give you ouchies," Luke responded, grabbing his finger and studying it, as if the cut would materialize just for the example. "Yes. So do we touch knives?" She asked. "No, motha," at least he was obedient. "Thank you, honey. Why don't you go play with lil' Artoo?" she asked.

"I'm waitin' for fatha t get home," Luke answered, softly. Padme glanced down at him. None of them knew when Anakin would get home. Despite him having his own business, he was still a Jedi, and Jedi still got called away on missions. "Where's your sister, then?" She asked.

"Outside, with the other girls," oh, yes, she had permitted Leia to socialize with the neighborhood ruffians. Hopefully; she did not pick up any tendencies. ""Aren't there any boys outside?" she asked. Luke shook his head and Padme sighed.

Couldn't someone please have given her a _manual _for this nonsense? "What are you watchin?" Luke asked cheerily, peering up at the holo-vision. "News," news she could not be a part of.

News she had to figure out from blasted Keith Harrison two weeks after the event actually occurred like everyone else. She wasn't there for once, not a part of it, and the frustration that brought settled in her gut and started to fester. She was useless and bored here.

She hated being bored.

"What's goin on?" Luke inquired, as if he could really understand the stakes of which the newscasters were speaking. "There has been another Rebel attack on an Empire base in the Kurflias system. Reports of Jedi bombing and small battles near the area have been reported," Keith Harrison said dramatically. Oh, yes, that attack.

Wonderful, she finds out about it now.

Padme sighed and continued chopping the small vegetable on the counter in front of her. Suddenly, the door opened and Leia burst in. "Fatha is home!" She announced happily. Luke sped out of the kitchen with speed not average for a human being.

Padme grinned, her heart lifting just a bit, and turned to see Anakin Skywalker waltz in, holding Luke upside down by one foot and Leia upside down by the other. Both of them squealed and giggled, flailing and waving enthusiastically.

"Father is home _early,"_ Padme observed as Anakin walked over, sweat lining his brow but his eyes dancing with weary content. "What? You have objections?" Anakin asked, giving her a swift kiss. Even his lips sparked of energy and excitement.

He swooped back to lay both children on his lap as he took a seat at the table. The regular work clothes of an Empire citizen, stitched with the Empire insignia, glinted in the light. Anyone caught without said emblem on their clothes was doomed to imprisonment and ultimately death.

Padme turned to smile at him, waiting eagerly for information of the outside world. "No, I've no oppositions. How was your day?" She asked. Luke straddled one of his father's legs while Leia straddled the other, both laughing as Anakin bounced them up and down on his knees.

"My name is being passed around," he said, throwing one arm loosely about his chair. "Which name?" Padme asked, immediately concerned. Anakin smiled at her stricken face.

"Well, both. Word about my clone self named Darth Vader has come to Courascant, and I have heard the name Anakin Skywalker used in the same sentence as traitor about ten hundred thousand times today," ouch, that wasn't very nice.

"On the brighter end of that, Ace Abner is becoming notorious for his excellent mechanic skills. I got ten new customers today." He told her proudly. Padme felt exhilaration flit through her. "That's wonderful!" She cried, clasping her hands together.

"Good job, fatha!" Leia added, her words slurred with knee bumping. "Thank you, my daughter. Anyway, we'll get some extra income coming in. Pay off some bills," he explained. Padme groaned at the word. Another thing she had never had to worry about before, _bills_.

"Good," she sighed and turned to the holo-news again. "Jedi interference with the Empire nuclear test base…" Anakin noticed her gaze. "So, what have you been doing here all day?" he asked curiously, like an impish child.

"Watching Keith Harrison try to flirt with Mindi Barrister," Padme grumbled, turning back to her boiling soup. She dumped the henceforth cut vegetables into the water.

"That bored, huh?" Anakin looked at her sympathetically. Padme nodded. "You have no idea. Luke, Leia, go wash your hands for dinner," she instructed.

With a nod, Luke and Leia hurried off Anakin's lap and up the stairs to the bathroom. Padme turned back to her soup. "If you want," strong hands moved to grip her shoulders, massaging and working at the knots there.

"I could _entertain_ you tonight," he offered. Padme smiled at the seductive tone in his voice. "Sounds like fun, but what about tomorrow and the next day, what am I supposed to do then?" She inquired. "What? You're saying my demonstrations are not _memorable_?" That made her laugh.

Anakin chuckled at her laugh and wrapped his arms around her waist. Padme allowed herself to let out a breath of frustration in his arms, warm and safe, as if nothing in the universe could touch her there.

"They're very unforgettable," she assured him, looking up into twinkling and affectionate azure eyes. "But during the day, Ace, when you aren't here. I'm bored out of my right mind. I feel so _useless_," she gestured towards the holo-vision. "I just wish I could get out of here," she said. "You oughta go make some friends," Anakin reminded her grimly.

Padme snorted. "Among our neighbors? Friends? Oh, believe me, I've tried. They're not partial to outsiders," she snorted, remembering the rude comments of the family to their left, and the very disrespectful words cast at Luke and Leia by the neighbors on the right.

Anakin pursed his lips, thinking. "You know," he said slowly. "I could ask Mace who else lives on Courascant that is part of the rebellion. Maybe some of your friends live here," he offered.

Padme blinked, surprised. Why hadn't she thought of that? "Yes! Do it, Ani, please!" She cried, forgetting herself for a moment and saying his nickname. Anakin grinned down at her and kissed her forehead.

"I'll get right on that after dinner," he promised. Padme could have jumped for joy. As it was, she leapt into the air, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into an aggressive kiss.

Anakin stumbled back, taken aback by her brusqueness, but laid a hand on her waist anyway, holding her there. "Ewww!" two similar voices yelled. Padme looked up to see the revolted faces of Luke and Leia. She laughed.

Anakin chuckled. "Hey, hey, one day you two will understand. Luke, she'd better be smart and Leia, he'd better be willing to die because I'm going to kill him," he prioritized. Padme hit Anakin's chest playfully, full of renewed vigor.

"Oh, you will not!" She scolded. "Kill who, fatha?" Leia asked, utterly confused. Luke shook his head in bafflement, walking past them to the table expectantly.

"No one, baby," Padme said, scooping Leia into her arms. "Fatha is just being silly," she cast a stern glance at Anakin, who crossed his arms and set his feet, resolute on destroying his daughter's future husband.

* * *

~Ahsoka's POV~

Two very large males walked on both sides of Ahsoka Tano; intent on delivering her to their leader like a wrapped and naïve prisoner, and beyond that meeting, most undoubtedly death.

Her hands were tied behind her back with crude ropes, unfitting to hold a Jedi. Her lightsabers were hidden away under the skirts she had managed to bargain out of a drunk bounty hunter. She reminded herself rather of Ventress.

Over her eyes was a dirty fabric that smelt of blood and other bodily fluids that once would have made Ahsoka burn with fury. Now, all she did was remain calm as they escorted her to their hideout.

Everything was going exactly as planned.

* * *

~Unknown's POV~

"We need to clean up those kids," Margo suggested, with a puff of foul _cabaña_. Their leader, hooded and hidden in shadows like a coward, leaned back in his seat, massaged by two girls on both sides. "They're makin' a whole mess of things wit the others," he sniveled, spitting out a dark glob of mucus. Neither of the women massaging him seemed to notice.

This was how his life had always been to Ambo. He had grown up knowing this slug, and hated him with a fury that burned like a morning star, but despite this, Margo did bring in the money with his trade. Slave trade, that was.

In addition, where else was Ambo gonna go, nohow, even if he ever did get away? However, those thoughts did not matter, and they were not to be spoken aloud, for penalty of death.

"Bunch of rebels, are what they is," the matriarch to the left of Margo snorted, her predatory eyes glazed over with death sticks. They were all either high or drunk.

It was their style; the way of doing things, and it sure helped when coming up with punishments. Good punishments were always easier to make when you were too drunk of high to think about it just then.

"Inspirin the other children to stand up and fight us? _Us_? The people who raised em'? Ungrateful brats," she harrumphed. Jambo snorted. The children in question, like he, had been either kidnapped or plucked off the streets as orphans, and forced into the life they owned now.

Oh well. It didn't matter.

"They need's a good whippin!" Like a gang of Hutt slime, they cackled over this as if it were the funniest joke in the entire universe. Ambo glanced at the slave serving up more Vodka and grinned.

She was pretty. What was her name again? Oh, what did it matter? Maybe he would extend a…Private invitation to her tonight, no matter what her name was or what she thought.

"We needs to find out who the Rebels is first, fore we can whup somebody," he pointed out mildly. Death sticks always did that to him, did not make him cruel or loud, but mild. The only time he ever did not feel so afraid or angry was when he was helplessly out of it.

Not that he ever was not.

"The brats ain't tellin nobody nothing," a voice grunted from farther back in the smoky room. "That be true," Margo grunted, chewing slowly on his cigarette rod.

Thoughtfully, his eyes, as human eyes often did, crinkled at the sides with thought. "I say we whup em all, or threaten too, so that these_ heroes_ will come on out," the female suggested again.

Ambo opened his mouth to object, after all, they could not ruin any more whips, but all of a sudden, the door to the room opened just a crack. "Margo?" A small voice asked. "What?!" Margo jumped to his feet, sending the table in front of them jolting. "Hey! Hey! Sit down Margo!" Some of the screeched as the cups; sticks and drugs went flying.

Margo did not need telling. He was swaying so badly from drunkenness that he plopped right back into his seat, exhausted. "What?" He repeated. The head did not poke itself into the room, rather stayed put. "We have a prisoner," the voice mumbled. Ambo frowned was that…? Ah, yes, his brother or half brother or…something.

He used to like that person. Oh, well. It did not matter.

"Prisoner?" Margo repeated dumbly. His brows scrunched in further thoughtfulness. The six of them, situated in various places around the table, also scowled.

Margo glared at the invisible guest as if he could see him, but then shrugged. "Should I bring her in?" the man asked, after a moment. "Um…Yeah. Bring her in, yah. Wait,_ her_?" Margo's eyes twinkled at that, and he chuckled dangerously, letting his forecasts into the future known.

Ambo leaned forward as well, thinking that once Margo was done, mayhap he might have a go at her. There was not many a woman who would dare challenge them.

Most of the females in the area either hated them or were so terrified that they had brought their newborns to them before the babies had a chance to grow and have themselves stolen anyway.

No one answered Margo, which would be a punishment for the poor man later, but the door opened all the way for two burly Trandoshan's to push in a young Twi'lek woman.

Ambo studied her bruised body intently. Before it had been ripped, torn, and bloodied by some street fight she had been dressed in the usual Empire civilian clothing it seemed, along with a long skirt to go with the insignia.

She was a light green, with exquisite curves and a slight body, though more muscled than he had ever seen a woman. Her two head tails were already full length, though she could not have been more than twenty-five years old. She was on her knees, head bowed and chest heaving.

Suddenly, to their shock, she looked up at them and met each in the eye. Her own pupils were a striking emerald green, and bright with confidence, dignity and spirit. Ambo gawked at her; no prisoner had ever met their _eyes _before without cowering.

Most had been too fearful, and every prisoner had come in so beaten and bloody that the fight had clean been knocked out. Despite being shredded, this girl gave him the impression that she had not even begun to tap into her real potential as a fighter, as if she were holding back.

For one of the first times in his life, he was afraid of a _girl_.

"You must be Margo," her voice was clear and low, smooth as a baby's bottom. "We found her in one of the alleys, Margo," the guard next to her declared stiffly, as his partner delivered a swift kick to the female's ribs. She cringed but did not cry out. Nevertheless, her eyes held no fear.

"Talking with our kids. They seemed to be plottin something, sir," he reported. Ambo scowled. Planning what? "The rebels!" Margo guessed first.

Ambo wondered how drunk he was to have spouted something of the sort. This girl was overly brave and foolish, but she looked too proud to have thrown her lot in with some _rebels_. Moreover, why would she do it?

The Twi'lek's eyes did not shift. "You're with them, huh? Outsiders messin with my employees!" he roared. Ambo squinted at her, again confused as to how Margo saw that. "She's nothing but a wee girl!" a female voice interjected hotly. "Employees?" the girl demanded.

"Are you referring to the helpless children you've enslaved, perhaps?" she asked, with stern calmness. She rather reminded Ambo of his older sister, always bossing him around and trying to use intelligent words, as if knowledge would make her _somebody_.

"Them too," Margo grunted. He stumbled out of his chair, delicately, as if walking on broken glass bare-footed, and staggered over to her. He tipped her chin up to meet his eyes fully.

"Well?" He demanded, blowing out another cloud of thick smoke with his inquiry. "I've nothing to do with your_ employees_," the girl ground out defiantly. She was a stupid thing; that was for sure.

"Then what was ye doing talkin to em, huh?" Margo continued, his glassy eyes blazing. "Wasting my time, evidently, because it obviously got me here," the girl snorted. That warranted gasps from the crowd around them. Margo, though, merely smiled his sadistic, malicious smile.

"My pussy," he chuckled. "I like you. I like you a lot. You're spicy," he observed. "Most men would try to flatter a woman by heralding her as sweet," came the cynical reply. Ambo stared confusedly. What had she said? There had been too many big words in that sentence for him.

"I think I'll keep you," Margo purred. Ambo blinked; keep this stray girl? Surprising, certainly, she ought to have befallen to the death of flogging, like every other mutineer that had dared sneer at Margo.

Eh, why not? They had taken less and never found anyone more…Interesting. "I wish you luck with that," the girl replied stoically. "Unless you're a _Jedi,_ honey," Ambo called over, emphasizing the title, rarely heard nowadays, and was always used with some loathing and more respect, feeling the need to have his voice heard currently, in the presence of this dignified woman.

"You isn't goin nowhere!" She only glanced at him, then back at Margo, grinning like the fool she was.


	14. podracers, politicians, and love

~Anakin's POV~

Sometimes the shop brought back memories that Anakin considered should never have been brought back into existence. It was beautiful, of course, his mechanics shop. Mostly importantly, thought, it was his. All his, and no one else's to own and conquer.

He had refused to let Padme help him with the decorating and had earned the money for the tools and little improvements himself. It was all his and he had earned it; nothing like that to make you feel like a man.

Despite this, though, the shop did so look Like Watto's.

The front entrance was practically the same, though there were no stairs to step down into and the droids guarding the doorway were not broken, cheap pieces half leaking out fluids, but polished and impressive looking magna guards that he had enhanced himself.

The desk was smaller, and used for nothing besides credit exchange. A few small droids and spider looking machines rested on the metal desk, resting there placidly. The rest of the room was show-and-tell, for Anakin had always loved the flamboyant.

Butler droids, small speeders, holo-visions, holo-pads, and other toy droids. It was a whole inventory of his skills, and looking at them all now, Anakin felt very impressed with himself.

Nevertheless, the burn of childhood stuck to him here, staring at the polished and professional landscape before one came to his workshop, where all chaos was thenceforth erupted and the neat and orderly atmosphere vanished into scruffiness. Obi-wan would have been appalled.

The thought made him chuckle aloud. He had not seen nor heard any word from _Mr. Aethra_ in almost a month. Anakin half expected to hear him walk up any moment now, wrinkle his nose at the amount of technology and tomfoolery in the room, well polished as it may have been, and then proceed to the back, where he would have an all out lecture prepared for Anakin's tendency towards mess.

_ I really should not know him this well,_ he reflected with humor_. I need some new friends,_ not that he actually _wanted _any new friends. In fact, he wanted his friends here with him now.

What he wouldn't give to have Ahsoka kneeling beside the speeder he was working on, watching his hands work intently and ready to catch a mistake.

Lux would watch them work sometimes, silently. He was quite good with mechanics, though he never helped them openly. Anakin knew the reason, though Lux had never said it out-loud.

His father had taught him about mechanics.

He hadn't needed it to be said, they just _knew._

He wanted Captain Rex to barge in with Luke and Leia on his shoulders and Cody on his heels. Then exclaim loudly that Leia had beaten all of the clones in a debate over foot smells, and Luke had invented a new sort of metal for their armor, and did all little kids know these types of things or was it just the twins?

He wanted to hear the sound of Nava and Padme in a hot argument over the ethical reasons why something or another did this to something or another. What would perfect the picture was Intrepid trying out new tea recipes in the kitchen with Obi-wan. Yep, that was the life he wanted to live…

The bell above the door rang, promptly disintegrating Anakin's fantasy. He sighed and rolled out from under the small vehicle as a female voice called from the front: "hello?"

Anakin cocked an eyebrow; he had not heard that voice yet, must be someone new. Putting his charming smile on, he bounded into the front to see a young woman about the same age as him.

She was Pantoran, with dark blue skin and golden diamond shaped freckles on her forehead and cheeks. Light lavender hair rolled down her back in undulating waves. She gave him a friendly grin, though her large purple eyes shone with wariness. There was a pan of sweet-smelling substance in her hands.

"You're Ace Abner?" She asked. Anakin crossed his arms. She didn't _look _dangerous, but years of war had taught him not to trust his eyes alone. "Who wants to know?" He replied, guardedly.

She chuckled. "Only me. I heard you and your family just moved in. My name is Shantra, I live eight houses down," she explained. Anakin was mildly confused. He had heard about neighborly welcome, of course, but never _expected_ it. Not in the neighborhood _he_ dwelled in.

"Here," she extended the pan, covered by tin foil. "I made you some Jubbleberry cake, to welcome you," she said. Anakin was dumbstruck. He took the pan hazardously. "Oh," he stuttered. "Thank you. Its…Um…Nice to meet you, Shantra," he offered her his hand, and after a moment she grabbed it and shook it strongly. Anakin decided he liked her.

"I admit, you caught me off guard," he admitted, setting the pan down. "None of our other neighbors have been necessarily…Amiable towards us, you see. It is good to see a kind face," he eyed her face curiously.

"We've been in nearly a month, why didn't you come before?" the second it came from his mouth, he realized this probably had not been the most polite thing he could have said to her. She was the only one who had extended out a friendly hand, after all.

Shantra did not seem to notice. She grinned and answered him cheerily. "I'm a food critic, you see?" She explained happily. "I don't travel much, but when I do, I stay for a while. I only just got back the other day from downtown," oh, that covered it.

Anakin nodded, reassured in his like for this woman. "Thank you again. I'm sure my wife would love to meet you, she was so excited about getting to know our neighbors," he confessed.

Shantra sighed. "I know how she feels. I moved out here five years ago, and not a single soul said a word to me. They will, though, when they get used to having you around," she assured him. Anakin nodded, though he highly doubted it.

Shantra looked around inquisitively. "My father was a mechanic," she told him. "Nice place," Anakin grinned proudly. "Thank you. So you know something about mechanics, huh?" He questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"_Something_?" Shantra snorted. "I know every detail of mechanics, wires and droids. It's a gift, really," cocky thing, was not she? "Oh, really?" Anakin asked, feeling a bit of bigheaded pride sink into his bones. "Would you care to help me with this speeder I have back here, then?" he asked. "I bet you I'll fix it in half the time you would," oh, heck no, was that a challenge?

Anakin crossed his arms, studying the bold face of the woman a mere few inches shorter than him. She met his eyes without fear. Anakin narrowed his lips. "Do you watch pod-racing, by any chance?" He wondered slowly.

It was not a widely known sport, since on most planets it was…Well…_Illegal,_ but maybe…. Her eyes grew wide. "You, too? I won the pod-racing championship on Pantora when I was twelve!" She burst out.

Anakin felt his heart leap. "What?_ You're_ Shantra Pallas? I heard about that race! It was epic! The twist-dive you did with that three-twenty-four racer was incredible," he burst out, flatly amazed and deliciously delighted.

"You saw that? Blast, that move took me forever to complete! Have you heard of the Jerald's nose dive for mountain ranges?" she asked. Anakin couldn't believe his luck. Courascant was _awesome_!

"I love that move. But it's hard to do," he consented. "You can _do_ it?" Shantra gasped. Anakin nodded eagerly. "No way, dude! You have to show me how to pull that off! I can't get the gears right," she cried, completely frazzled with excitement. Anakin decided that he had just found his new best friend.

"You have to keep them in a stable three-hundred and seventy-two angle or it won't work," he agreed. "I'll show you if you tell me how to pull off that twist dive you did," he offered. "Sure," Shantra put her hands on her hips, eyeing with new respect. "_And_ I'll fix that speeder with twenty minutes to spare!" Oh, if she could do that, she was his new icon.

He wouldn't give her the chance, of course. _He_ was going to do it.

"You're on!" Courascant was awesome!

* * *

~Padme's POV~

The Rebel Officials meeting that Anakin had told her about consisted of seven people. None of these people had ever had any high ranks or any stunning privileges; they had not been raised in a respected, serene temple nor in a beautiful, regal lake country but in various slums and farms.

Padme, though, had never had more fun than she was having with them.

They had formed a small arrangements of chairs around a tiny, rotting wood table with a single light bulb above them, but Padme felt as if she were on a grand top floor of some expensive meeting house.

These people_ listened_ to each other.

And by the time it was over, they had all agreed to meet one time each week. Now, Padme stood in the meeting room, alone, with one person she had especially gotten along with. "The situation with the Gungans is still stable," Jiro assured her, a fellow person of Naboo. Her countryman.

"No misunderstandings? No quarrels?" Padme asked, eager for news of her beloved Naboo. She had not been back o her home planet in over four years. Her hope had once been that Luke and Leia grow up there, in the riverside cottages where she had spent her young life.

"None at all," Jiro smiled, his slick reddish-gold hair shining in the vivid light. Stunning grey eyes burrowed into hers with benevolence. "Have you heard of the People's relief rebel effort?" Padme nodded.

"Yes. It started on Naboo, correct?" She asked. He crossed his arms. "Our planet has helped the rebels much. Tell me Padme, is your husband on planet?" her eyebrows scrunched… Anakin! He was talking about_ Anakin_!

"Force," she gasped, turning. The streets were beginning to fade into inky darkness. "I have to get home," she realized. Jiro nodded.

"Allow me to accompany you. I don't want you getting mugged and not even a month into your stay," he teased. Padme rolled her eyes, offended by his assumption that she was helpless. "I have a blaster," she snorted; and then wondered what had possessed her to say such a thing to this man who she hardly knew.

Jiro laughed. "Don't we all? A blaster does nothing in there's a knife to your neck. Allow me," he insisted. Padme huffed, he did have a good point, and besides, she wanted to continue this conversation.

She had to know what the Rebels were doing. "Very well. Yes, he's here. Why?" She asked, pondering why they were suddenly talking about the love of her life.

Jiro shook his head. "I only wished for you to tell him that many members of the Rebellion know he would never betray us," he said earnestly. Padme's likeness of her new friend escalated.

"So you've heard about Darth Vader," she stated bitterly. What sort of sick fiend cloned somebody and turned that clone into a monster?

"Who has not? He's quite the fearsome creature, but the Jedi will stop him. They always do. Meanwhile us measly politicians will be building our new nation back up again, birthed from peace and understanding," Padme laughed without mirth.

"Easier said than done," she reflected, half bitterly. She had seen nations rise and fall through dreams such as those. She had entered the office of Queen on Naboo with those same naïve dreams, understanding only what her limited wisdom would allow, which was of course that but would be hard, but_ she_ could do it.

She realized now what a foolish thing to think that had been, responsible, hopeful and confident, yes, but rather… Immature.

However, Jiro's mouth was set into a hard and stubborn line, as if he knew exactly what the childish determination in his face meant, and would rather be knocked dead, raised back to life, and knocked dead again, this time more violently, before he gave up his aspirations. Padme had to respect that; she grinned.

"With people like_ us_, my friend," Jiro opened the door, about to lead her back into the throng of Courascant, eyes hard yet glowing, strong as any Jedi. "Things most think are impossible are merely implausible."

* * *

~Obi-wan's POV~

"Hello, darling," Obi-wan smiled wanly as Nava walked up, he heard rather than saw her, considering the fact that she was hiding her force signature, but he knew it was she when slender arms wrapped themselves around his exposed middle from behind and squeezed.

"My love," he greeted. "I was just getting ready for bed. I'm sorry we've not had time to sit down and talk today," he apologized. Nava laid her head against his back, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"You've been busy," she reflected, with a grin. "I'm used to it. And besides, I had the most wonderful time today with Mr. Alwari's wife. He married a virtuous woman," she told him. "I can't wait to meet her then, and introduce you two. You'll adore Tyrion and his _charm_," he rolled his sightless eyes amusedly.

Nava nodded and released him. Obi-wan missed her touch. "What else did you do today?" he asked as she started towards their walk-in closet to get her night gown. It was almost midnight. "Well, I went down to the kitchen and learned how to make bread!" Nava volunteered.

Obi-wan chuckled at her vibrancy. "You didn't know already?" he asked. "Of course not. The temple teachers never covered that. Anyway, I'm glad you added Dex to our team of Chef's, he has everything working to peak efficiency in there, and he's happy as a clam flirting and flattering all the women in there," she joked.

Obi-wan chuckled and slipped on his thin sleep shirt. "I don't put it past Dex," he agreed, glad that his friend had gotten to know everyone so quickly. He knew Dex would. He was really a softie under all that fat and gruffness.

"Then I went down to the children's orphanage," Obi-wan grinned. He had already been there. "How much money did you give them?" He requested.

He was aware Nava was blushing by pure knowing. "Um…Only a few thousand credits," she stuttered. "How much exactly?" he specified calmly.

"Well, they were so _sad,_ and the little girl wanted a doll…." Nava began. Obi-wan laughed. "Nava, just tell me. I already gave them two-thousand credits, how much did you add to it?" he asked again.

Nava went silent, dumbstruck, before bursting into laughter. "Three thousand," she answered cheerily. Obi-wan scowled. She beat him.

"As long as we don't go bankrupt, I suppose it doesn't matter. It will help with our reputations, as well," he thought aloud, slipping under heavy and soft pillows. The bed sunk beneath him with softness.

Obi-wan let out a sigh of relief. "_And_ the little girl got the best doll money can buy," Nava added, as he heard the creak of closet doors opening. Nava walked up and slipped into bed beside him.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Then I went out to lunch with Mrs. Alwari. She knows the best restaurants. I also went to the universal bird museum to collect some facts for my next mission. Alderran has the cutest sparrows. Then I balanced out all the budget cuts we have to make, arranged all your meetings for the next three months and called in to make sure Intrepid was okay," force knew how she had gotten all that done in twelve standard hours.

"Is she?" He inquired, suddenly remembering that he had meant to call in and make sure Padme and Anakin were alright. He was sure they were, of course. Force knew the both of them could survive on their own, but maternal worry compelled him.

"Quite. She's going to be out of reach for awhile. Something about stopping child kidnappings and enslavement. She was so excited she barely got the words out, silly girl," Nava chuckled. Obi-wan squeezed her shoulder.

He knew what it was to worry and miss your child.

"She'll be fine," he assured Nava, reaching over to flick off the lights. "I know," Nava put a hand on his chest, curling up beside him. They stayed that way a moment, silent and wondering about the new life they had, and how…How different it was from the old one.

How things had changed.

"Obi-wan?" He glanced down at her, unseeing in permanent darkness. The only indication that she was there was her touch on him and his grip on her. "I'm happy," she whispered.

Obi-wan felt his heart skip a beat and contract. He grinned, filled with happiness himself now, and kissed her forehead. "That's all I want," he agreed. "Here," Nava contemplated.

"We don't have to be anything more. We can be…_Us_. That's what makes me happy, not the lavish lifestyle and expensive mansion," they did live in a mansion now, didn't they? Thiers was slightly larger than other mansions, but a mansion it still was. Force, he, in a _mansion_?

How things had changed.

"I know," he said, simply. Nava nodded, assured, and laid her head on his chest. "I love you, Obi-wan," she whispered. Obi-wan smiled, and despite his blindness, despite his role as a Jedi master and everything else that hindered him in every way, decided that he was happy too.

"I love you more."


	15. Various engagements

**_Two weeks later:_**

~Lux's POV~

Lux's eyes blinked open, and the sight that greeted him was the far end of _Whacker_ pointed at his face. "Up, Rai! Run!" Commander Damara ordered brusquely. Lux scrambled to his feet, no easy feat in the slippery mud, and continued running.

A night and day of this? He had been in hour's long battles fighting for his life, but never this. Here, the general was just purposefully making his life horrendous, with no consequences to himself.

At least on the battlefield, Lux had been able to shoot back. Here he had to endure the torment and know he was powerless to stop it. Some might call it a learning experience. Lux called it _bullying_.

Running at top speed, he quickly caught up to the others, sliding and slipping as they were, rain poured down upon them in a giant storm of drenching, angry water, and mud had sprung up on their obstacle course.

It had been hard enough during a beautiful day, so it was four times as hard now.

Lux balanced out his body and tried to focus on anything but the wet squelch in his torn boots as he approached the wall.

A few men had already passed him and jumped on the steep barrier, which only contained nine hand holds. Most would think it was impossible for over fifty men and women to climb atop it, but _no_, the general insisted.

Next to him, Maxell had caught up; his eyes squinted against the adamant rain pelting their cheeks. Lux spared him a glance. Though they were friends, he had learned a vital fact on the battlefield; and in this camp most as well. Everybody here was against him, and thus his opponent.

Not allowing himself to brood upon it, he cut his heel to the left, splattering a bit of extra mud over to his friend. Maxell went flailing to the ground.

"Oh, _thanks,_ Lamar!" Maxell shouted sarcastically after him, his face filled with mud. Lux glanced back at his fellow cadet and gave an apologetic grin.

When he looked back at the wall, he almost ran into it. _Come on, Lux,_ he captured a shallow handhold and pulled himself up, looking around for the next. Only two others had made it to the wall.

"Hey, get back here!" Suddenly, his leg was seized by a webbed hand, which sent shivers up Lux's spine. He kicked Cent back impatiently.

"We're going to fail together!" Another hand grabbed his ankle. Lux only had one handhold; he hung on for dear life. He had to win! If Lux hated anything, he hated to _lose_. Blast it all, he hated it.

_Fail yourself. Lux Bonteri will not,_ he sighed and found, instead of another handhold, a leg dangling just above his, the woman had lost her grip was slipping rapidly, the sodden wall hindering her further progress. Lux grabbed her ankle and gave a sharp yank.

She tumbled down atop his attackers with a yelp and he was pulled up by his effort. He grabbed the next handhold and pushed forward. He could almost hear Intrepid lecturing him on it. His ridiculous notion about never losing had always driven her mad, but blast, he_ hated_ it.

It was a male teenage thing. Big deal.

Enduring still, Lux pushed on, he was a mere half way up the wall by now. How could he get to the top and across? There were no other hand holds near him. They were all scattered elsewhere.

_I'll have to improvise. What would Ahsoka say_? Then Lux realized that it did not matter what she would have had to say about this. Ahsoka would have just used the force to leap over the wall. Lux could not do that. Neither could any of these cadets. They had to do it the hard way.

Or did they?

_ I don't have the force, none of us do, these aren't Jedi. I'm not a Jedi, but I am just as good. _"Maxell!" he turned down to see a growing mass of people watching hi m with resentful eyes. "Give someone a boost so they can grab my hand! We'll work our way up together!" he shouted.

This comment as met with staggered mumbling. "Can we do that?" Cent asked softly. Lux sighed. Who cared what they were _allowed_ to do. "We do what we have to in order to win! Now hurry!" his grip on the wall was failing. He would fall soon.

Rain drenched his clothes and hair. Nodding, Cent turned and began barking out orders to the others. Quickly, three teams assembled on opposite sides of him. Of course. There are three hand holds on each side! Quickly, Lux looked down and prepared to grab Maxell's hand.

A slippery webbed appendage was thrust into his. "No hard feelings?" he grunted as he hauled Maxell over his head and boosted him up to the next handhold.

"I hate you, you competitive chosski!" Maxell replied sarcastically as he gripped the next hand hold and hauled himself up.

"Yah, I know," Lux replied, panting like a dog because of the rain running into his nose he gasped and spluttered, pulling more mud-splotched people over his head like a giant chain, linked by hands.

They were no force sensitive's, they did not have any special gifts/burdens, and Lux suddenly realized how much he had _missed_ being normal.

Among the Jedi, he was the different one. He was the only one not part of an age old Order, the only one who had not ruled a planet and saved millions of people at one time. He was just another mortal among people he revered as gods.

Yet, now, he was back on Earth with the other unaided and simple people. With people who had known their mothers and did not follow a code or enforce the laws.

These people were not rebels as in they fought a major Empire for control of the galaxy, but rebels as in they had tried to defy the odds, failed, and tried again with a new technique.

These people struggled against the oppression of those larger than them; not the oppression of themselves. These people were not bound by duty, but by determination. And they had accomplished the same things as a Jedi with time to spare. _Together._

He grinned at the sky, pouring rain and laughed as he helped another person over the wall. Bodies shifted and disappeared over the edge.

He did not have to be force sensitive or a Jedi to be a hero. He did not even have to be a hero. All he had to do was get over the wall in one piece. And that was all he wanted to do.

He was home.

* * *

~Ahsoka's POV~

Bloodshot reminded her of Rex, if the bold and gallant Captain Rex were secretly lusty, selfish, charming and callous.

She seemed to attract the oddest crushes.

In the month she had been a part of his team, she had managed to get so encaged in this life, that she actually had a bit of respect for the common black market dealer. This career was not as easy as she had thought, sort of like the start of her padawan days, they had been at all easy either. Not like she had first believed.

Ahsoka poked her head around the box she had positioned herself behind and peered about suspiciously. _All clear,_ with a short wave of her hand, Ahsoka signaled to the sniper on the building above.

Here in the warehouse district, they could never be too careful. Especially with stuff like this, these weren't the exact, drugs but the ingredients to make them. The two guards standing post outside of the warehouse suddenly dropped, blood from their chest wounds splattering on the wall behind them.

Ahsoka ignored the urge to rush out and catch the falling men. She hated killing them, _innocent_ men only doing their duty, in fact it sickened her, but sometimes you had to do what had to be done. It was the only way to stop the flow of drugs in this area.

Without further ado, she bolted out from behind her hiding place and raced towards the doors. Only two guards were outside, but she sensed more inside. Ahsoka drew her crossbow and prepared it in her hand, electro-arrow buzzing with a faint blue light.

She kicked the doors open, and prepared to become an assassin.

Inside, boxes stacked upon more boxes lined the walls and interior. Ahsoka immediately deduced that her eyes would be of no help to her, due to the fact that it was pitch black in the warehouse.

To any regular person, this would pose a very honest problem, but Ahsoka never had favored being part of that category of normal people.

Suddenly, the force rang several sirens in her mind, and Ahsoka ducked against a familiar green light that buzzed lightly past her left Lekku. Ahsoka glanced at the shot that would have killed her, unfazed, and crouched, her bow in hand and arrow loaded.

Ahsoka eyes darted from corner to corner, and she cursed the Sith for their involvement in her having to hide her force power. Now, she could not stretch out with the force to see where exactly her attacker was, but she was being forced to wait for the force itself to grace her with that knowledge.

Patience never had been her strong point. Ahsoka huffed and switched to her other advantages. If she could not see her enemy, didn't that mean he couldn't see her, either?

_ Never assume that,_ Anakin would say. _You don't know what he has opposed to you, Snips._ She could use Anakin's help at that moment, she felt so vulnerable and utterly alone just standing here in easy firing range in the overwhelming darkness.

Usually, she would have another Jedi, Intrepid, or Lux, at her side, but now…She had no one.

_ Is this how it was before I was found by the Jedi? Blind, alone, vulnerable, and unsure? _She wondered. Ahsoka did not remember much from her three years outside of the Jedi's guiding light, but she remembered enough to know that the second she had arrived at the Jedi temple, she had known it was where she belonged. That said much right there.

Ahsoka swerved out of the way of another blaster shot that came alarmingly close to her heart. She landed on her knees and fired into the dark. She could sense several bodies closing in on her. _Blast it!_ She thought_. Ahsoka, focus or die! Take your pick, girl._

She shook her head and tuned into her predatory instincts, and was surprised at easily it came to her. The Jedi had trained her against using such a technique early on.

Her predatory instincts brought on unnecessary aggressiveness and clouded her mind with impulses thousands of years older than the Jedi, instincts that had less to do with reason and strategy than just raw evolution.

Now, though, her gaze honed in on every miniature detail as if it were right in front of her. Her ears picked up the noises of boots stepping lightly on the ground, previously drowned out by her focus on the force.

And, faster than she had thought possible, Ahsoka turned, and used the metal of her bow to smack the closest person with mind-boggling callousness that would have made several people gasp in astonishment. The sound of the metal against a skull made Ahsoka cringe herself.

The instinct had taken over, though, and she was suddenly in the air above another guard's head, and the bow was around his throat as she hung on. Her fist rammed into something beside her as he reeled about like a headless pigeon, choking and fighting with small wet squeaks.

_Don't kill him,_ some part off her mind whispered. _Remember who you are,_ but who was she, really?

_ You are a Torguta, _her instincts contradicted plainly, furious and growling, determined to win and bring back prey. _You are a woman of Shili, a warrior and hunter. Your ancestors hunted, and now you hunt. You carry the Akula teeth on your head. Remember whom you were born as_. And which was that? Was she born to be a Jedi, or a hunter?

_Whatever I need to be. _Ahsoka propelled herself from the man's head just as he toppled forward, unconscious. She landed swiftly on her feet and crouched, turning just in time to hear the sound of her own arrow splicing through a man's kneecap.

He screamed in agony and dropped, holding his shattered limb whilst he howled and panted for breath or a fast death. Ahsoka stood. All the guards were down. They weren't dead, at least.

Her hands itched to get the work done.

_ Kill, hunt, the circle of life. _

But she was Jedi, she was excluded from that circle. Nay, she would not kill them. With this made up in her mind, Ahsoka stood and looked around. She bit her bottom lip, and realized that her teeth were sharp as tiny daggers. They had sharpened back into canines when she had tapped into her predatory instincts. She ran a finger across the now bleeding lip.

_ What have I become? A savage?_

Desperate, almost, to distinguish this thought from her mind, Ahsoka quickly knelt next to the man whose kneecap she had obliterated and laid a relaxing hand on his shoulder.

He cried out in fear of her and attempted to scramble away. This attempt ended in a gruesome screech when he was reminded of his kneecap. He spat some curse at her, sobbing uncontrollably. "Relax," Ahsoka whispered, and ignored the fact that it was in her motherland tongue, instead of basic.

The force did not choose sides, nor languages to favor. It answered her anyway, coming at her call and rushing over the man as water rushed over a new passageway it's been given, renewed and excited.

For a moment, she basked in its light, in the glow and power of her ability as it did what the force did and healed the broken knee partially. Broken bones were harder to heal than mere battlefield cuts, and it would have required an energy Ahsoka was momentarily forbidden to use.

She then let out a low whistle, alerting the sniper outside to her success as the guard stared into space blindly, mouth agape as his kneecap was healed. Ahsoka sighed and looked about at the others. Soon, the sniper would bring her fellow drug marketers and Ahsoka would be bumped up on the drug trader chain once more.

_ But is it worth this?_ She wondered, glancing down at the man she had wounded, the men , innocent men, she had damaged and attacked.

"I don't want this," she whispered, in a Togruta language of her birth village and home, but her voice soft; no reaction from the healing guard whom she had probably crippled for life.

Obi-wan, also, had been crippled for life. Anakin had been. Lux had been, and they all had been. Lux had lost his parents, Obi-wan his sight, Anakin his arm, and Ahsoka a home, so why did not the rest of the universe have to suffer, too?

"I lost Master Plo to war. A war you mocked. A battle you won't fight," she balled a fist, and he whimpered as the healing turned to pain. Ahsoka lessened her grip, not taking her eyes off his, though he looked at her not.

"None of us want this. The Jedi never wanted-thought-it would come to this. We're ridiculed for something we had no control over. And now…Now look at me," her chin puckered. "I'm fighting my force power. I'm hiding it. People have lost their lives for this. And slowly, we're becoming something different."

How things had changed.

Ahsoka pulled her hand away and hid her signature again, sitting back on her heels. She sat there numbly, not exactly caring about anything for the moment. If a Sith would have walked in and arrested or killed her, Ahsoka probably would not have done much but blink. She smiled woefully at this.

"Oh, _force,_ we didn't want this," a tear dribbled down her cheek, dropped off her chin, and Ahsoka stood. "What are we becoming?" She asked the unconscious men around her. Nothing, not even a whisper from the wind. The force answered its servant with mournful silence that bespoke all.

Ahsoka knew what the Jedi were becoming, what they had already unknowingly become.

They were warriors, not keepers of the peace.

* * *

~Dooku's POV~

Dooku had once considered the Republic Senate the very essence and meaning of blasé corrupting and festering greed. And the Jedi, being allied with such forces of injustice and inaction, were to be blamed as well.

Seeing, however, the senate that Sidious had started; made his gut twist and think that perhaps, the Republic senate had been a golden apple compared to this black and rotting fungi.

Before, at least the Republic had possessed some _articulacy_ and sneakiness about them. The senators had bribed people to get their way, or gone against the wishes of their civilians just to further their own wishes.

It hadn't been so blatantly sloppy as this. This wasn't hierarchy or royalty as he had expected, as he had dreamed, where he sat on a throne by his master's side. This was, as the rebels also so barbarously named it, a tyranny.

And he wouldn't mind, would agree wholeheartedly in fact-after all, the majority of the Galaxies population were too stupid to figure out such essential matters themselves- if he had a crown on_ his_ head as well. Yet, he did not even have the royal robe.

That was Sidious's doing, that man who stood there on his pedestal, like he always had, with his staff holder with the horns behind him. Like Chancellor Palpatine, only with yellow eyes. And he did not lead the senate; he _controlled_ it. Dooku had often found that there was quite a difference.

Quite a difference. He had expected a fair share of the kingdom. By the code of honor, which he had not abandoned, merely found that there were times he used it and time he couldn't care less about it, he deserved to be.

He had done his part of the deal; and he had been promised this. He had been promised that he would get what he deserved. Instead of being ruler, he was now a slave.

Yes, he would say it; admit it to himself, as many of the other Sith had. He was a slave to Sidious, barking out what the brainless new senate should do about the Rebels. He only used the word _should _for the cameras. Each senator (again chosen by Sidious) knew that if they were to disobey, they'd all be killed.

Dooku knew of several, despite this, that had aligned themselves with the Rebels. He considered it his duty not to inform Sidious of their names. After all, should the king ever need help? Dooku intended to get something-some small victory-out of his crushing defeat, He had been manipulated, like a puppet. They all had, even the Jedi.

The only difference? The Jedi were fighting _back_.

Dooku snorted and stepped away from the balcony on what was once the senate Building conference chamber. Let them speak petty talk. He would fight in his own way, and when the day came, he would have his crown. He vowed it.

In some ways, he was an _ally_ to the Jedi, but even if they knew, they'd never admit it. Probably because they were too wise an Order for all the corruption they inspired. They knew that he was doing this for no one, not the Jedi, the other Sith, justice, equality, or even himself.

He was doing this to have victory, to sit on his throne. He was doing this because he could _not _accept that he was another pawn in the same game as the Jedi, and that he, like they, had been nauseatingly cheated out of their thrones.

Because that would mean, in a controversial way, that he was still a Jedi.


	16. Problems arise

~Anakin's POV~

Of all the bad feelings, somehow, Padme was giving him the worst at the moment. It wasn't anything she had said, exactly, but what she was doing. The second he had walked into the house, she had been too_ nice_ to him.

To most husbands, this new change of attitude would be welcome and lovely, but to Anakin, whose wife was Padme Amidala, the renowned politician used to exercising flattery to get what she wanted, this was plain uncomfortable. As if he were getting tortured before execution.

First his favorite dinner, then a recording of the latest pod-racing tournament that they had watched together, next a hot apple quiche she had baked that day, and a wholesome slice of said cake, then, long after the kids had fallen asleep, she had come to bed with more zeal than she had in months.

Not that he was complaining about any of this, but force, what did she want from him? A toe? A kidney? He would gladly have given her both without the added pleasantries. Padme knew that, so why all the added mush?

"You're just softening me up, aren't you?" he asked some time later, twirling one long brown lock around his finger. Padme smiled at him serenely. "What makes you think that?" her calm was infallible, but even without the use of further force implications; he knew that underneath that innocent exterior lurked a waiting _cobra._

"You're being nice to me," he pointed out, as she traced a small scar on his collarbone. Anakin shivered at her touch. "Aren't I always?" Padme inquired, innocuous as a young girl. "Not like this. This…You don't this unless you want something, what is it?" he asked.

Padme cocked her head and put on a pouting face, Anakin wanted to grab that large bottom lip between both of his immediately. He traced the curve of neck and shoulder, debating over it, when Padme spoke again.

"Why, Ani, how devious do you think I am?" Padme asked; a definite twinkle in her eyes now. Anakin snorted. "As devious as you need to be. I know I always need to be on close guard whenever you politicians start sweet-talking. It's why I don't listen to a word of what Obi-wan say's anymore," he reminded her logically. Padme chuckled softly and smiled up at him.

"Well, there is this_ one_ thing…" she began. "I knew it," Anakin interjected, delighted to have gotten the truth. "Tell me now what your heart's desire is. You know I'll probably get it anyway, even if it's a planet," he felt the need to make her recall.

Padme's face grew thoughtful. "Would you really get me a planet?" She asked. "Of course not. Were you going to ask for one?" he demanded. "No!" Padme smacked his chest with a sharp slap. "Ow!" Anakin grabbed at his stinging breast, glaring at her. He had preferred it when she was being a conniving little angel.

"I have a proposition for you," blast, this was getting worse by the moment. Anakin should have kept his mouth shut. "And Ani, I want you to think about it before you just say no," he was going to die.

His fate would be horrible and dreadfully unfair, as well, killed by his own wife? What a heroic end to the extraordinary _Chosen One_.

He backed away just an inch or two, just to make sure. "Yes?" he asked, staring at her cautiously. "You know those rebel meetings I go to every week?" So far, so good. Anakin nodded hesitantly, wondering if he would regret that later. "Well," Padme ran an enthralling hand through her hair.

_Cheat,_ Anakin thought bitterly. "The others and I have voted to have it every day of the week, just a few hours, mind you. During the other's lunch breaks, and I was thinking, I couldn't just leave the twins at home alone and you'll be at work so…" Anakin's eyes narrowed. "So?" he inquired suspiciously.

"And there is a daycare center down the street…" Oh, she had to be kidding. "Daycare? You want to put two force-sensitive four year olds in _daycare_?" he demanded, aghast. "Only part time!" Padme quickly assured him.

"Padme, in case you haven't noticed, they're _force sensitive_. What if they slip? Any person would happily kidnap them and turn them into Sidious, and how could we ask that of them anyway, to not tell the other children about the talent I've taught them to be so proud of?" He could not believe this.

Padme knew the risks; she knew the danger. What was she _saying_?

"Anakin, in case you haven't noticed, they hide their force signatures anyhow. And they play with the neighborhood kids daily, in any case. They need to get out and meet other children their age," Padme began, in the same argumentive tone as he.

"Eventually, Anakin, they_ will_ need to go to school," she pointed out stubbornly. Anakin inhaled sharply. This factor had not occurred to him yet. The only schooling he had ever received had been in the Jedi and consequently, he had not considered that his children would not have the same chance.

How things had changed.

"Whatever. That will come when they're older and they can understand how dire the situation truly is," he waved his hand, dismissing the thought. Doubt only spurred her on.

"And they don't understand already? We had to ask this of them when we moved here, Ani! They're bored in this house here all day…" Padme went on. "They're bored, or _you're_ bored?' Anakin interrupted, sourly.

Padme fell silent. Suddenly, she sat up, glowering down at him. Anakin, who could not stand being looked down upon, _especially _by his own wife, sat up as well. "It's too dangerous," he growled.

"_What's_ dangerous, Anakin? We ask them to do this every day!" Padme snapped. "And you don't know if they do it, Padme! Can you feel the force? No. They may walk in the first day and not only put themselves; and us in mortal danger of being found out, but the _others_, too! And all because you didn't want to sit around and be a mother," he sneered back.

Padme's face went red at that statement, her brown eyes flashed with red. "I can be a mother and be out of the house at the same time! Very well!" She shouted. "Maybe other people, but not you. Not with our children. They see other kids with their companion neighborhood idiots. Let them learn how to distinguish the smart from the stupid by that example!" he blurted.

Force, it's how_ he_ learned the difference!

"Did your mother stay home and coddle you your whole life? Did you stay home all day and play with spoons?" Padme countered. Anakin felt fury flicker deep in his soul, Padme should never, _ever_ bring up his mother in that way, not here, not now, and not like that.

"Don't you_ dare_ bring her into this," he warned; his voice low with the rage he was holding back. "You know she didn't have a choice. Neither did I. You have that choice, and you're choosing to squander it for a load of idiot ideals!" he roared. Padme's eyes darkened.

"_Idiot ideals_? And what ideals do you fight for, Anakin? I thought they were the same as mine," He was making her angry; he could see that. He could see it in the way she squared her shoulders and her fists balled in her lap, as if steeling herself for a fight.

"I fight for you. For you and the twins, Padme. I don't want nor need any other ideal than that. No other is stronger; don't you see that? Peace and democracy be damned, this is our _home_! We're man and wife here, not Jedi and senator! Those people don't _exist_!"

He was wrong; he knew he was. Because his life would always belong to the Jedi, but his soul, his heart and his body belonged here, with Padme, with the twins, and nothing, nobody, was more important than that. Than _them_.

His family was not only his weakness, but his strength, his motivation, and he had thought Padme saw that. Saw that while they could, they could pretend that this was all there was to the universe right now. Let the others straighten out the galaxy; he had children to raise and a wife to care for.

"Oh, so the Jedi don't exist here Anakin? You've forgotten who you are so quickly? So Qui-gon never existed? Obi-wan and Ahsoka and Nava are just fragments of some past we're still not linked too? What happened to them, huh? What's happening to _you_?" If only she knew how many times he had asked himself that in his life. With a groan of frustration, Anakin used the force to call his cloak to his hand and pushed himself out of bed violently.

"I'm done talking about this," he sneered, shoving his arms into the armholes. "The twins aren't going to daycare, that's my final word on the matter," he decided. "Oh? And I'm just supposed to follow your orders like I'm one of your troops? Like I'm your slave, Anakin Skywalker?" Padme demanded hotly. Anakin's entire body bristled at the insult. His fists clenched.

Slave. She knew not what the word meant. She was so_ stupid_. "You're a selfish barve," he managed to say before he opened the door and slammed it, making sure she did not get the last word in before he did.

* * *

~Padme's POV~

Padme hated it when they fought. She knew that Anakin did too; they had spent so little time together in their marriage that a fight was a confession of doubts and fears.

Though, for two stubborn-minded and defensive people such as they, these things were bound to be regular; that did not mean Padme had to like it. She sighed and covered her eyes with both hands. As usual, the spot in bed next to her was empty.

This was the first real fight they had had since they had gotten married. _Well, it was sure to happen sometime, _Padme thought. She opened her eyes and sat up. The twins weren't awake yet. But they had to wake soon.

_ What do I do now?_ They had never had a big fight before, not like this. Padme was at a loss. And where was Anakin anyway? He had stormed out the night before.

Tentative, she slipped from bed and grabbed her silken robe. Determined, she wandered from the room and down creaking metal stairs. The cold of them chilled her bare feet, and the eerie quiet of the room was like a fantasy. "Ani?" She called softly, looking around. No sign of him.

Her heart jumped a beat and she walked into the kitchen. She grinned as she noticed a small red rose sitting on the table, underneath was tucked a note. "Oh, Ani," she picked up the rose. It was still fresh, when had he bought it? Her eyes fell on the note and she sat, reading it.

_ "Got called away on a mission to Feluccia. Be back within a few days, hopefully. Don't worry about the shop, I already handled the implications. I'm sorry for last night; you can hit me later, okay?"_

_-A_

Padme laughed softly and pulled the rose to her heart. _Couples fight,_ she reminded herself placidly tucking the note away. She would apologize to him later, anyway.

_And I'll show him, too, that Luke and Leia can be around other children perfectly fine,_ she stood, rejuvenated and cheerful. "Come on and rise, twins!" she called upstairs. "We're going to daycare!"

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

Once, a Jedi only had to walk into a crowd, and all was quiet. Once, a Jedi was greeted with respect and trepidation. Once, the Jedi were peacekeepers, trusted with the safety and fair treatment of all. Once, Anakin carried these thoughts with him wherever he went, and now he realized he had never truly appreciated the admiration and good-treatment given to Jedi.

Now, _now _he realized how _sweet _that had been.

"Down with the Sith! Death to the traitor!" Really? Could they have come up with a worse slogan to yell at him?

Honestly, wasn't there some Sith running about with his exact face at the moment that they could deliver their cries at? Why him? "Stupid Vader," he growled, using the force to counter the multiple pieces of sour smelling fruit that were being aimed at him.

"Um, sir?" Rex called from below him. "I think you'd better get off the tank now!" he pointed out, a tad worriedly. "Down with the Sith! Death to the traitor!" _you think?_ Anakin thought.

"I can't! Then they'd only throw stuff at you and the tanks. We'd be cleaning tomatoes out of the machinery and your armor for days. They are not hitting me anyway," he shouted back down. Rex, who was smartly walking beside the tank roaming through the city, only nodded.

"Let us just shoot a few blasts into the crowd, sir!" Fives piped up, his voice slightly strangled with rage at the treatment Anakin was being shown. "That'll show em!" Anakin shook his head.

"They're only scared!" he replied. Indeed, he could feel their fear in the air like a musty scent of death. Fear and anger that their hero-the legendary hero they adored-had supposedly turned into a Sith.

Anakin reveled in feeling the force again, at not having to hide it, but what with all the rage in the atmosphere, he sort of wished for the comfort of not having such a depth of feeling again.

"Well, can they be _quietly_ scared, like most other people?" He heard some of the clones grumble. Their outrage at his treatment was touching, but Anakin only smiled ruefully and shook his head.

_ After all I've done, I'm still deemed a traitor, after escaping your touch, Sidious, I am still considered a Sith, _he contemplated bitterly.

_All because of Vader and his thrice accursed meddling? Where is he, anyway? I oughta have a word with him._ And by word, he meant an all out saber duel in which he would be the winner. Force, had he proved nothing by his years of training? By the numerous battles he had won? The lives he had saved? The people he was destined to save?

Why had everyone believed he turned so easily?

_ Why don't they trust me?_


	17. Taxes and whippings

~Obi-wan's POV~

"I'm telling you, Osiris, Sidious is making a perfect mess of things. He's just raised the taxes even higher, were you aware?" He asked.

Obi-wan shook his head. "No, my friend. I had no clue. How high are they now?" He asked, and found that he actually cared, because he had to _pay_ taxes currently. Some luxuries of being a Jedi, he missed.

"High enough to make the common middle class family _waltz_ upon the poverty line! Disgraceful. Even during the war, taxes weren't this high, and what for? So that he can masquerade with rebels? Hmph! Some people have better things to do," he sniffed disapprovingly.

"Keep your voice down, Tyrion. You know sensitive ears lurk everywhere," Obi-wan warned softly, glancing at the study door.

"Yes, yes, quite right, my good man. I should not complain anyhow, I have enough money to survive, but I worry for those out there who don't. What will they do? Not paying taxes is a crime punishable by imprisonment, and then death," Tyrion pointed out. He sighed and snapped the book in his lap closed.

"I'm at a loss, Osiris. I cannot for the life of me find that word," he sighed. Obi-wan, blindly pretending to rummage through a dictionary as well, snapped his own book closed. "I suppose we'll never know the second meaning of neocolonialism," he sighed, settling himself into his chair.

_ I wonder if Shaba-laba-ding-dong is in the dictionary,_ he pondered, and chuckled softly at the memory of the name. "How goes your business, Tyrion?" he inquired, as his friend settled himself into the seat across from Obi-wan.

"Same as ever," Tyrion replied, boredily. "Everything runs smoothly. Everyone is happy. I swear, Osiris, sometimes I wish I were like you, back in those days when you have something to do. When you aren't the best and thus have something to work towards. It's terribly boring, being the best, you know," he stated.

"Some might take that as an insult," Obi-wan teased. "I'm not the best, hmm?" he asked. Tyrion chuckled softly. "Second only to my unworthy self, billionaire you. Tell me, where is that lovely creature you call your wife? I mean to flirt with her until she comes to her right senses and marries me," he wondered.

Obi-wan felt something like embarrassed playfulness in his chest. "She is currently out with _your_ wife, cheater. I have half a mind to tell your own mistress what your devious plot is," he scolded.

"Oh, she wouldn't mind. Anyone to get her into another man's bed, she says I'm boring. Why are you blushing like a little boy, Osiris? How terribly innocent you are!" Tyrion laughed as Obi-wan rubbed the back of his neck. "Where were you raised, in a temple?" Tyrion asked. _Oh, how right you are._ "And if I was?" Obi-wan asked.

"Then I'd have to drag you to the downtown district for a lesson," okay, that was not a pleasant thought, Obi-wan shivered and shook his head. "You're a monster," he admonished as Tyrion snickered at him. "And you, my friend, are an angel. We need to cure you of that," _Anakin would agree with you there._

"Perhaps later we'll take an expedition to some dark, secluded place. In the meantime, what of your own business? How do you cope so far?" Obi-wan exhaled in relief; at least they were on to another subject, though this one was no better than the first. "So far? We're stable. But blast, Tyrion, I have so many ideas for this corporation that I don't know how to do," he lamented.

"Well, of course not, dear friend. What in the blazes do you think I'm here for? Tell me your ideas, and I will help you," Obi-wan exhaled, relieved that in this, for one of the first times in his life, he was not alone.

* * *

~Intrepid's POV~

"Rise, Infinity. A new day starts over yonder, and the market brims with its usual blunder," came the poetic and soft voice of Dame, above her. Intrepid moaned and opened her eyes, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the short tunic she had been given to wear that barely covered her knees.

The rest of her filthy yet long legs were vulnerable to peeking eyes. And what was _under_ the shift, as well. She quickly sat up. "Dame! What time is it?" She asked, despite stern Jedi training, flustered to have a boy this close.

"It matters not. The morning hath come, and Margo wishes us to go now," he said with his customary soft voice, which spoke of perpetual sadness.

Indeed, Dame's stormy black eyes were large and always sparkled with tears that seemed held in unsuccessfully. Intrepid groaned and nodded, forcing her legs, still sore from the night before, upright.

She looked around at her fellow thieves and sighed. Another day of stealing, or their punishment, like the night before, would be severe. "Up, all of you," En-lai ordered, though with the same tiredness in his voice as in all the others. "Come on, I know it hurts, but we must get moving now," he said.

Intrepid frowned and noticed the two twins, so much like Luke and Leia, despite the age difference, Aziza and Azari, both struggling to stand. The eleven-year-olds were human, with skin as dark as Master Windu's and dressed in the same rags as she. They did not deserve this life, nor the whipping they had gotten on her account.

"Here, let me-" she was cut off by Cece as she pushed past Intrepid, nearly knocking her over, as Cece walked to help the twins stand. The hard concrete floor beneath them was chilling her on the outside, to match her internal state. _"There is no emotion, there is serenity,"_ she had allowed herself to get captured for these children. Yet they condemned her.

Not that they did not have good reason.

_ "You saw fit to disobey my orders, then?" Margo asked, his threatening stature looming over the children. Intrepid, the one who had stepped up, glared up at him defiantly. The others were also on their knees, but unlike her, their heads touched the floor in servitude. _

_ "No," she replied, calmly. "I saw fit not to kill an innocent man for your perverted desires," she said. Margo's eyes narrowed; and rage flickered in their depths_. I have fought General Grievous and stood my ground against Sith, mongrel. Who are you to frighten me?_ Intrepid thought, with a small smile. _

_"He is dead, though," it was a statement not a question. Intrepid's jaw clenched, and she glanced back at En-lai. He had been the one to stab the man, not Intrepid. He was their leader, tasked with overseeing that they did as Margo said. Intrepid had already made it clear what she thought of Margo's power. It was nonexistent in her eyes. _

_ "Not by my hand, but yes. He is dead," she agreed. Margo leaned back in his seat, and blew out another puff of thick smoke. Intrepid resisted the urge to gag on the smell. Force, why would anyone want to do this to themselves? Why would they want this foul smell in their lungs day by day? Her pity for this man grew, as much as she willed it down. _

_ "May I remind you," he glared into her eyes without fear. If only he knew the weapon she had concealed back at their room. "That you are officially__** my**__ slave now?" his slave? Ha, she could have laughed. As it was, she kept her face stoic. "I am no man's slave," she countered firmly. _

_ She gestured at the ones behind her. "And neither are they. Neither are any of the children here. Our service to you is purely momentary, I assure you," said she. _

_ The others inhaled sharply. "Infinity!" En-lai hissed, but whether it was a warning or a cry of shock, she could not tell. Intrepid remained unwavering before the glare aimed at her skull, as if that glare could burn through it. _

_ She met his gaze squarely, both of them in a tight quarrel of silence with drugged and clear eyes, fighting over control of an empire made much before Intrepid's time. The institution of slavery was older than she and her masters and those masters before them. Suddenly, breaking the tense silence between them, Margo laughed. _

_ Intrepid narrowed her eyes, wondering if she had played her cards too tightly. From the look in Margo's eyes, she truly had. "Oh, my spicy wee girl. My novel protégé. My electrifying nemesis, you speak well. But whips trumps words every time," he stood, and Intrepid had to crane her neck to glare up at him. _

_ "Oh, you've done it now," Aziza moaned. "Fine," Intrepid was not afraid. "Send them out, and do as you wish. I will take the punishment for death," she would be __**honored**__ to take the punishment of standing up for a life. It was her duty as a Jedi. Margo only grinned, and the sudden thought that here, in this place, she was not a Jedi, popped into her head. _

_ "And why would I send them out? After all, if one should disobey, why not all take that fall?" He asked. Intrepid's heart skipped a beat. He would punish the others for her mistake, too? That wasn't fair! He seemed to read the thought in her eyes. _

_ "Ah, but dearie, I've never been quite all that fair in the first place," Margo laughed, and the sound of a cracking whip resigned her to her fate. _

"En-lai?" Intrepid walked up to him as Cece helped the twins up, their scarred and still bloody legs trembling beneath them. Her own back, scarred and stinging lightly; ached at each move she made. Intrepid swallowed the pain and stepped up to the leader of their group of six. He was a human, with jet black hair and blazing ice cold blue eyes.

Despite the size of him and his stern face, the admiration and loyalty he promoted from others labeled him as a natural leader. He turned, and his blue eyes darkened slightly when he saw her.

"I'm sorry about…Last night. I expected to get punished, but I never thought you all would be brought down with me," she apologized, feeling as if it were necessary, as if it was what Nava would have wanted.

"Perhaps you should have heeded my warnings, then, hmm?" En-lai replied neutrally. Intrepid bristled. "I couldn't just let you _kill_ that man," she sneered. "And why not? What did he mean to you?" En-lai asked, not defensive or angrily, but merely curious.

Intrepid let her anger float into the force. "He hadn't done anything wrong," she explained. "Nothing besides get married to a woman that Margo wants," she rolled her eyes.

"Even if we had to get rid of him, we couldn't just kill him. We could have hid him, or…" En-lai interrupted her curtly. "Margo would have found out," he said impatiently. Intrepid sighed. "You don't _know_ that, En-lai," she put a hand on his shoulder.

"He isn't so dangerous as you think. He's a bully with a whip. And a drunk bully at that. Where I come from, we call those people idiots. Idiots are too dealt with promptly and with as little fuss as possible," she told him, remembering an old saying of Anakin's. "Yes, well, I believe Margo handled us idiots promptly enough," En-lai recounted, acidly.

"Listen, Infinity, you have a good heart, and I admire your courage, but we're not…wherever you're from anymore. Fighting back comes with consequences; and not only consequences for you but for us," yes, Intrepid had witnessed this point the night before, and would never forget it as long as she lived. "We have nothing to fear but fear itself," she declaimed knowingly.

"And the whip," En-lai added, with a sigh. Suddenly, he shook her hand off his shoulder. "Whatever. You don't get it yet, but you will. Anyway, I have a word for you," En-lai turned toward the doorway, where the others had already fled out and into the underground city marketplace to do their work.

"Yes?" Intrepid asked, trailing him. "Don't you _ever_," he half turned sharply, making her stop in her tracks. "Put my team in danger again, or Margo will only be the least of your worries," he growled.

Intrepid stood there, shocked. "Is that a _threat_?" She gasped at last, indignant. "No, it's a promise," En-lai corrected lightly, as if he were merely amending her beliefs on the color of the sky. "Now come on. You have much to learn," he said with the patience of an overwhelmed parent, and went on into the day.

* * *

Okay, in case I have completely confused you; here goes the summary. Ahsoka is working undercover as a drug dealer trying to stop the flow of drugs in the underground. Intrepid is posing as a slave to help stop child enslavement in another part of the unerground. Lux is at a training academy for underground patrollers (sort of like a police academy) in yet a third part of the underground. Obi-wan and Nava are billionaires and Anakin and Padme are middle class workspeople who will dominate a majority of this story.

~Queen Yoda


	18. Where the fun begins

**_Two weeks Later:_**

~Anakin's POV~

_ "Down with the Sith! Death to the traitor!"_ Force, why couldn't he get that out of his head? Mainly, he suspected it was because he had heard it shouted dozens and dozens of time over the past two weeks. He had been forced to battle a Sith during the campaign, and the kriffing barve had sliced him cleanly in the ribs.

After said battles, when his troops had been exhausted with carrying and providing for their wounded and dead brothers, the denizens had refused to let his army into their village for rest.

They had thrown so much food at him that the smell of it was left in his lungs. His muscles ached with exhaustion and his hands twitched every few seconds with stiffness.

All he wanted to do was slip into the unreality of his family. He wanted to become Ace Abner, since the universe currently hated Anakin Skywalker. Trudging along, he finally reached the front step. His stomach growled noisily. He had not eaten in days.

_ I wonder what Padme cooked for lunch_. Space travel did always make him hungry, after all.

Anakin typed in the code to the lock and stepped inside, then frowned. Closing the door softly behind him, he wandered inside. "Padme?" he called. No answer. Anakin did not even sense anyone home. "Luke? Leia?" he added, more quietly.

They did not call the kids by their real names unless the situation called for it. There was too much of a chance that the twins would slip up, as young as they were, and with the amount they did not understand.

Suddenly, surprising him out of his wits, the house comm. Link let out a plaintive beep. He jumped, then exhaled and chuckled lightly at himself. He peered at the identification code on the ID. He did not recognize it. Warily, he pushed the receiver button. "Is this the Abner residence?" Someone, definitely, female, asked loudly.

Anakin heard the sound of kids screaming behind her. "Yes," he answered hesitantly. "Well, could you please inform Mrs. Abner that her children are still here, and we're about to close," shock rippled through him, then dawned into heated understanding. _Blast you Padme! I said no!_ He thought. "Very well. I'll tell her," he agreed.

_ And a few more things besides._

* * *

Later:

~Padme's POV~

With burning lungs, Padme ran, pushing past people in her haste. They weren't there, someone already picked them up, but by force, _who_? She understood she had been a tad late to come and get them (meaning that the daycare had already been closed for two hours) but wasn't it slightly illegal just for them to hand Luke and Leia over to any person who went roaming by? What if…

Sidious.

_ Oh, you idiot! You thrice accursed fool! Where are they? _She thought frantically. Desperately, Padme scrambled down her street, not knowing what drew her home. Unsure what made her want to check there before any other place.

It was nearly midnight, the perpetrator could be anywhere by now! _Oh, my babies, where are my babies? _She wondered frantically as she staggered up the steps and fell, skinning her knee. Limping hurriedly, she nearly plowed open the door in her scuttle.

"Luke?! Leia!?" She screamed into the dark opening room. "Shhh!" Came a familiar voice. "You'll wake them. And why are you saying their names aloud? Close the door, before you go shouting out forbidden things, at least," came the irked and very frustrated voice of Anakin Skywalker.

Padme nearly collapsed to her knees with relief. Her knees wobbled. "Ani," she closed the door behind her and leaned against it limply.

"The twins…?" She babbled in question. Anakin walked out of the kitchen and leaned against the doorway, regarding her coldly. "Safe. I picked them up this afternoon from daycare," he explained mildly. Padme exhaled deeply. "Thank the force," she gasped. Then she noticed Anakin's stare, which penetrated her own face with barely controlled anger.

"What?" She asked, suddenly having a very bad feeling. "Come into the kitchen with me, Padme," without another word, Anakin turned curtly on his heels and disappeared into the next room.

Padme gulped; she knew when it was best just to accept defeat and do as Anakin commanded, because she could easily see he was furious.

He was talking_ quietly_, and the only time he ever spoke without his normal brash and loud tone was when he was on the verge of breaking necks. That was the time when he spoke lightly and lowly, because he knew that if he were to yell, he would shake the building like an groundquake, and they could not afford that on this world.

Submissive, she followed him into the kitchen and sat down at the table uncomfortably, She had seen Anakin this angry of course, but never at her, and she found it was not pleasurable being the brunt of his anger.

Force knew how Obi-wan and the Sith did it, because his stare seemed to be scorching the air. She wondered if this was the equivalent of a non-force sensitive feeling his rage through the force.

Anakin sat across from her, his expression calm enough, but the cup in his hands wobbled with trembling hands, and his knuckles had gone white. She squirmed in her seat. "Do you know what I've been doing as of late, Padme?" Anakin asked. He was speaking so softly he could have been whispering. She took this as a rhetorical question and smartly said nothing.

"Well, I've been fighting a war," Anakin answered her anyway. He turned the mug of steaming something in his hands thoughtfully, peering into the cup as if he expected to find something of interest in there.

"And, just like in all wars, I've seen men-brave and loyal men-fall and die around me. I have felt the grief of their brothers. I have looked into the faces of the Jedi council and seen the tiredness and sorrow in their eyes. Better yet, do you know what catchphrase the people I was trying to save were yelling at me while I fought off Sith? Go ahead, take a guess," Padme wiggled uncomfortably, feeling very much like she was being interrogated, despite the lack of questions.

"Something not very nice, I suppose," she replied gently. Anakin chuckled without humor. "You could say that. They yelled; 'Down with the Sith! Death to the traitor!' While they threw food at me, Padme. Did you hear? _Threw_ things at me and my men. The wounded had to sleep outside in the elements because Vader has framed me for his crimes. Insects and mosquitoes bit the cut wound I now have on my ribs," Padme inhaled sharply, her first thought being to check it herself to make sure he was all right.

"That, though, is the rough and unknown part of being a Jedi. Especially a framed Jedi. Oh well. I've survived worse. Anyway, I came home, exhausted and torn; ready to fall into your arms and lose myself in talking to the kids, but lo and behold, no one was around. No one! Then I get a call from some random lady telling me to inform you that you were late in picking up your children from daycare. So, of course, I went to investigate," Padme opened her mouth, thought better of it, and fell silent again.

She was a prominent and begrudged senator, and she had a great deal of experience in making people squirm in their seats uncomfortably, but Anakin was breaking any record she had ever had.

"What I find when I arrive there is terribly ironic considering that I told you I specifically did not _want_ Luke and Leia in daycare. For good reason, too. There were about twenty kids all mashed together in one room, Padme. One of which was a sixteen year old smoking death sticks and showing the younger kids how to cheat at gambling," her jaw dropped.

Anakin nodded.

"Luke and Leia, normally fierce characters they are, were sitting together in the corner. Leia was reading a torn book about the evilness of Jedi, and Luke was playing with a little toy droid that looked very much like a magna guard. They were

terrified of the bigger kids, who if not occupied by illegal teachings, were playing bounty hunters and Separatists. And the smaller kids were screaming for food or to be changed. The poor old lady tasked with all these children was so distraught and desperate to get order that she had to sit down every five minutes to catch her breath," he exhaled slowly.

"As tired as I was, I let her have a break and took control of the situation myself. It did not take much time, at least. I proceeded to give the kids a lecture that would have out-did Obi-wan. Then I drilled into them proper morals, had a very stimulating cursing contest against the juvenile, which ended in him pulling a blaster on me and me having to break his arm to get it away from him. The old lady fainted by this time. I stayed with the rest of the kids until their parents came. Some parents were sympathetic. Others, though, went on to talk about how much of a kriffing piece of waste Anakin Skywalker is and why he should be hunted down and killed. Most of them, though, seemed to blame _me_ for the old lady's fainting spell and the juvenile's broken arm, and so I was cursed out by several mothers and three fathers punched me in the gut. And you don't even _want _to know where that aunt kicked me," he cringed and Padme cringed with him, feeling guilt slide in and strangle her.

Anakin sighed wholeheartedly and leaned back in his seat, regarding her coolly. "And what have _you_ been doing today, dear?" he asked from between clenched teeth. Padme gulped. "Before you get angry…" she began carefully.

"Oh, I'm past angry," Anakin assured her sharply. "Now I'm just deciding whether I should punch the door, the table or the wall. Whichever would make the less noise," yep, he was past mad.

"Just let me say that I am _so_ sorry, Ani. None of this was supposed to happen," she hastened to explain. "I'd say so," Anakin grumbled, the tips of his ears going cherry crimson.

"The twins were only supposed to stay there a few hours, at most. And I had no clue that's what it was like in there. I went in first thing that morning and stayed half an hour just to make sure! I thought if everything turned out fine, then maybe you'd see that the twins could go to daycare. I went to my meeting and started talking to the others and_ blast_, Anakin, we were just having such a great conversation that I failed to remember the time. Did I mention that I'm sorry?" She asked.

Anakin exhaled slowly. "You mentioned it," he agreed, tranquilly. Padme reached across the table and placed a hand over his. "Anakin, forgive me," she appealed. Anakin took his hand away, not unkindly, just…Angrily.

"They don't go back," he ruled softly. Padme nodded. "Ever again," she said agreeably. "You want to go to your meetings? Fine. Just find a way to juggle everything," she nodded. "And…You're not angry?" She asked tentatively. Anakin stood; his liquid untouched.

"I never said that," he replied evenly. He turned to the doorway. "Sidious has raised the taxes again. We're going to be struck tight with money for awhile. I'm going to the shop to get us some more income," he called over his shoulder. His moves were terse and rigid.

"But…"Padme was not sure if she should go after him or not. She knew that trust had been shaken here, the binds of mutual esteem and faith had been unhinged.

"Shouldn't you rest?" She wondered worriedly. "I'll rest when Sidious is _dead_ and I don't have to fight everyone in the universe every day," he called back, and the door closed behind him, leaving only his choking words, untouched cup, and crying wife.

* * *

Okay, this story will revolve around more...Er..._Debates_ of this splendid nature. The movies never really showed much of Anakin and Padme's time together. And everytime they were together it seemed they were just so happy, so in love and so compatible a couple..._Sure_, two extremely stubborn, very opinionated, very intimidating people getting along every second of the day? Not likely. So, I decided to take a different approach to their marriage.

~Queen Yoda


	19. Secrets of the underground

~Lux's POV~

_"Lamar Rai, report to the general's office immediately,"_ that prophecy of doom had been proclaimed several minutes before. The looks of sympathy and horror from his fellow initiates had not helped him in the least. No one had ever gone into General Damra's office by_ invitation_; either he was receiving some honor, or some death warrant.

Now, Lux stood face to face with the door of general Damara. He gulped and pulled at his collar absently; recounting the thing's he had been doing lately. He had not done anything wrong, had he? No, he could not remember doing so.

Then again, in the time he had been a cadet here, he had quickly learned that the general did not have the same definition as wrong that his cadets did. _Come on, Bonteri, you've survived battle, Sith and senators. What's so scary about this general? _ He wondered, then wondered if he was truly as stupid as that comment had been.

Before, he had had a reputation; he had had The Jedi with him, an army behind him, the rules of politics at his side.

Now, he was on the bottom, just like everyone else. He was no better than his fellow cadets; and for a boy who had been born basically royalty, that was a terrifying concept.

What was he now? Lux inhaled again, the exhaled, raising a fist to knock on the door. Before he could even let his hand fall on the metal, the door slid open. "You may enter, Rai," General Damara called.

_ Into the lion's den_, in all factuality, Lux would have preferred lions to the lizard he had to face now. Stiffly, he walked in. the door shut with a clang behind him. Lux gulped as his eyes flicked back and forth, studying the room he was trapped in. It reminded him of a room Count Dooku would love.

Empty metals walls painted a stark red. On the walls hung pictures of a Trandoshan's favorite activity; hunting. Creepy portraits of various species whom, of course, were not partial to fighting back, were depicted in the jaws of Trandoshans. Lux wondered if Trandoshans had ever hunted humans. He sincerely hoped not.

On both sides of the room, file cabinets and black shelves held books, random prizes, awards and a small portrait of a female Trandoshan, smiling with long pointed teeth. Lux bit back surprise. Was the general married? Did he have a family out there? Lux could not imagine he could feel love or affection. Then again, Trandoshan's were known to be very intimate.

The room was oddly humid, making sweat start to form under Lux's arms. He turned his attention to the desk in front of him, in which General Damara regarded him coldly. "You called for me, sir?" Lux could not remember ever being so afraid of someone. Even Sith didn't glare at him like that.

"Yes. Come sit down, cadet," Damara gestured to the seat across from him. _Do I have to?_ Lux, for some reason, wanted to stay as far away as possible from this lizard. A bad feeling shivered up his spine and settled at the base of his neck, positioning the backs of his hair on edge.

He sat down limply, never taking his eyes away. He would not show the fear that was currently making his heart gallop. "I'll be frank with you, son," Damara said, in a hissing, raspy voice. His general leaned back in his seat, the various metals on his uniform gleaming.

"You have sparked my curiosity. I can see that you were not born in the underground; you're too cultured. You arrive late to training, speed your way through the basic classes. Show great bravery, ingenuity, and leadership skills. Now, at a level that has taken all of your fellow initiates months to get to, your instructors already have named you a star student and ready to move onto the next level," General Damara summed up, hissing through every syllable like snake.

_ I did all that?_ Lux had not been aware he had been _that _impressive. He had just been doing his best.

He cleared his throat. "I didn't know that, sir," he replied, honestly. "Really?" Lux sensed this was a rhetorical question. He did not answer, instead only continued watching Damara as Damara was watching him, suspiciously. "You would have to be a Jedi to have these talents," Lux felt his heart skip a beat.

He laughed, concealing the nerve Damara had just poked. He could not allow this man to discover that Lux did in fact know the locations of several Jedi. He could not know that Lux was a part of the rebellion, or they would all be put in catastrophic danger.

"A Jedi, sir? Aren't they all on the run?" He asked. "In hiding," Damara corrected knowingly. He stood; hands folded behind his back and turned away abruptly, studying something behind him.

"Some may be living even on Courascant," Damara continued casually. Lux wondered if it was a knife he was studying, or some other sharp object that could be used to slaughter him.

He gripped the sides of his chair tightly. Even if he was captured, he would not-_could _not-betray the others. With this vow ringing in his mind, Lux cleared his throat. He'd better not get captured then.

"I'd prefer we not speak of the Jedi, sir," he piped up, heart racing. Pleading, begging with his mind, the force or _whatever _to give him an idea to get out of this mess. Damara turned so quickly that Lux nearly jumped. "Oh? And why is that?" Unsurprisingly, there, indeed, was a knife in his hand. Lux exhaled dramatically. Hopefully, he was a good actor. He had to be.

"They're the reason my father is dead, sir," he admitted. This, technically, from a certain point of view, if your view was twisted and vengeful, was completely true. Lux had once blamed the Jedi, The Republic, and the clones and… Every one of them. However, then he had met Ahsoka, and her family. It was impossible to hate pure goodness when they only supported and cared for you back. Not _directly_ hate them in any case.

Damara's eyes sharpened, burrowing into Lux's as if he were seeking the truth. "Is that so?" he asked, slowly. "I'm sorry to hear that," Lux nodded and leaned forward, contorting his face into what he hoped looked like rage and not indigestion. Ahsoka had often told him he had a horrible poker face. Everything he felt was plain to see; his expression was a mirror into his heart.

"I_ hate_ them," he spat. "Every single one of them. Do you suspect one of the cadets could be one, sir?" He demanded, flipping the suspicion off him by a single sentence. The suspicion floated off Damara's face as quickly as it had come. The general replaced the knife back on his wall and sat again. Lux let out a breath he had not been aware he had been holding inside.

"No," he admitted curtly. "There is no Jedi, and I'm glad you share my opinion of them. It was a Jedi whelp who killed my nephew," he explained. Lux could very well guess whom. _Iwasskah, and Ahsoka, she had to kill one. _"Ahsoka Tano?" He guessed.

Damara nodded, and his fists clenched. Without any warning, he slammed them down on the table. The few objects rattled and clinked with the impact. Lux inhaled sharply. _Breathe, breathe, vape it, was there ever a more intimidating person? _

One would think Lux had never seen a modicum of violence in his life if they were to see how hard his heart was beating now. "Wretched scum! We'll find them, hunt every one down, and kill them _all,"_ he leaned forward. "Won't we?" he asked, as if he expected Lux to take part in this endeavor of his. Lux only nodded expressionlessly.

"Or die trying," he agreed darkly. _Yah, well, killing my best friends doesn't sound so fun, crazy crackpot, so I think I'll skip that one._ "Good," Pleased now, General Damara leaned back and suddenly pulled Whacker from some secluded place on the ground. Lux wondered just how many weapons he had close by. Was his chair secretly a bomb?

"We can be great friends, Lamar Rai," The general purred, tenderly stroking the bridge of his stick, large eyes unwavering. _Um…You sort of creep me out, sir,_ Lux thought, though he kept his face stoically unreadable. "I foresee a great future ahead for you. I was very impressed with your new approach to the wall," that was new? No one had ever thought to use each other to climb over it?

_ I'm just awesome. Sure, yes, let's go with that. _

"Thank you, sir," he said, instead of the murderous thoughts flitting through his mind. "You will be promoted to senior cadet," Damara decided without preamble. Lux opened his mouth, shocked. No one had ever been promoted to such a high rank this early in their career.

"The sooner you get on the streets, the sooner we can complete our _real_ mission," Damara said, with a wave of his hand to dismiss Lux's unspoken objections. Lux closed his mouth. "And what is out real mission, sir?" he asked.

Damara grinned, exposing long white fangs that spoke of horrible tidings. "We don't hunt crime, my boy. And the battalions under my command do not answer to the watchmen's committee like every other fool," he rolled his eyes. He raised his chin a trifle. "We answer _directly_ to Emperor Sidious," Lux let out an involuntary gasp. Sidious?

"And The Emperor has ordered me to prepare a squad of highly trained men and women for the most important career soldiers like us can engage in," he leaned forward to emphasize his point, his horrible, bloodthirsty, cruel point. "The pursuit and total _annihilation _of the remaining Jedi Order and their pointless Rebellion," he hissed.

Lux only stared at him numbly, feeling suddenly like a trapped tiger. He had not joined a patrolmen training academy, he had joined a boot camp for Sidious's future Jedi killers.

_Oh, kriff. _

* * *

~Ahsoka's POV~

The club where she received her future assignments was filled with every variety of scum possible. Drunk scum, prostitute scum, murderer scum, drug scum, violent scum, manipulated scum, etc…

Ahsoka sighed and leaned against the counter, letting her mask fall into place. It was simple, and smelled of urine and dirt, but it hid her face from the world that knew her too well.

One side of the mask was black, and depicted a scene of a human face crying with sorrow. The other side was white and depicted a happy face, smiling jovially. Her eyes peered out, the right on one side, the left on the other. "Can I get you something, honey?" the bartender asked.

"Surprise me," Ahsoka replied carelessly, slipping over a credit. "Surprise_ her_, get me a Tatooine black death," Bloodshot said quietly as he joined her side. The weary, hopeless old man nodded and turned to his shelf of alcohols.

The Human male who was three times older than her, his face half covered with synthetic skin and dirty blonde hair eyed her with twinkling black eyes. She did not look at him, rather at the crowd, dancing, and the music, booming in her ears.

"You're looking good there, Air raid," he said approvingly. Ahsoka did not answer, only cast him a flirtatious smile that made her stomach clench in knots and turned to the counter as their cups were set down. She picked up her cup, filled with yellowish liquid that smelled strongly of something illegal.

Putting the liquid to her lips, she pretended to gulp it down. Getting drunk was not on her to do list, nor did she intend for it ever to be. "That shipment of supplies me and your assassin brought in," Ahsoka began.

"Did it go to good use?" Bloodshot chuckled and took something out of his pocket. "By that you mean where's your pay, don't you? Right here, sweetheart," he answered, slipping her the credits. Ahsoka pocketed them quickly.

"I have a new mission for you," of course he did. He always did. "Tell me," she replied. Bloodshot leaned in and glanced around cautiously, his black eyes sharpening with awareness.

"There's this dude, you see, whose working for a rival drug dealer. He keep buying my junk, and not giving me good credits, but those faux ones. Find out who he's working for, and then," he shrugged, as if the loss of life he spoke of was to be taken unconscientiously. Ahsoka nodded, understanding this new assignment.

It only benefited her real mission; to get to the highest levels of drug dealership and then bring it down. An undercover mission that had failed time and again. Ahsoka did not plan on failing.

"And my pay?" she demanded. "Double the last gig," hmm, that sounded reasonable. "I'm in. tell me the address," she instructed. Bloodshot grinned, thinking that he had her in some sort of trap, when in all truth, the king was about to be uncrowned.

* * *

~Intrepid's POV~

"Okay," En-lai said softly. "You all know the drill. Aziza, Azari, distract him. Cece and Dame, you get the goods, and when he pursues, Infinity and I will get his weapons, understood?"

Nods all around. Intrepid let her eyes talk for her, peering over at the marketplace of the underground, bustling with shops and stands brimming with people and supplies.

Intrepid wrinkled her nose as the smell of thousands of different species of food wafted under her nose, all of which were rotten or festering with mold. Fresh food was rare here.

From on top of the building they were situated upon, Intrepid could see everything. "How much do you think you can steal by the time he figures it out?" She asked, looking over to Cece and Dame. "Pray thee, does thou hath no faith in our abilities?" Dame asked sadly.

"I have plenty of faith," Intrepid answered mildly. "I just don't know why we're only stealing from one stand," she pointed out, "We'll go to others," En-lai explained, staring at her as if she were just a bit daft. "That might take us all day," Intrepid added with a sigh.

"Do you have better things to do?" Cece inquired sourly. "I could. Tell me, how much are we supposed to get in one day?" Intrepid asked En-lai, he narrowed his eyes at her. "Five pounds worth of stuff," he answered, hesitantly. Intrepid was unimpressed. Determined to prove herself, she studied the market below. "There are six of us. Two to each stand," She said.

"How would that work?" En-lai demanded impatiently. The others grunted in agreement to his skepticism. "Hear me out," Intrepid defended, raising her hands in a gesture of peace against the eyes glaring at her edgily. "I've done this sort of thing before," she tried to assure them, though she had been in much different circumstances the several times she had committed these crimes.

Cece snorted. "Mrs. high-and-mighty has stolen before?" She mumbled. "Plenty of times," Intrepid agreed, neutrally.

"And I know that regularity mean complacency. Switch it up a little, and they'll never be able to catch us," She proposed. "It wouldn't matter. They know we're Margo's. They won't touch us," En-lai said.

Intrepid smiled humorlessly. "Do you really trust _Margo_ to stick up for you if someone wants to remove an arm? I don't know about you, but I'd rather keep all my body parts intact," she shrugged.

This statement was met with uneasy looks between the rest of her team. "Half of my _back_ is still on the ground at Margo's because of you," Cece grumbled, glaring death at her, as if her mere presence was an insult to the girl. "What's your plan?" Aziza inquired curiously, ignoring her older companion. "Okay, here it is," Intrepid knelt on the ground, using her finger to draw diagrams.

"You see these boxes? Those are the stands. One part of the team will walk up and pretend to be looking for something to buy. While that seller is preoccupied with his bargaining, another slips down and takes all the goods they can get," She planned, feeling mysteriously like a general again.

"And when the owner notices?" En-lai inquired. Intrepid looked up. "_Then_ we run. Back into that alley over there, and we fight them, and take a few weapons together," She said.

_ And we store those weapons, for when the time is right, the slaves will need them to set themselves free._ Intrepid did not add that to her list though. They would know when the time was right.

"Is it worth a shot?" Azari asked En-lai, who sighed and looked at Intrepid evenly. "She isn't stupid, naive as she may be. I say we give it a go, at least," he said. "Fine, same squads. This had better work, Infinity," Cece growled, pushing past her to take up residence in front of a stall. Dame followed close behind. The twins took another. Intrepid looked at En-lai.

"Where did you get this idea?" he asked, with some suspicion. Intrepid looked down. "An…Old friend. He was a slave as a child, and whenever the master did not give them enough food, he and the other slaves were forced to steal_," I really hope you wouldn't mind me using your technique, Master Skywalker,_ she thought.

Somehow, Intrepid thought Anakin would have been proud.

"I see," En-lai looked down at his team. "This old friend…Did he ever…Was he ever set… Free?" He asked hesitantly. His voice cracked at the word free. Intrepid put a hand on his shoulder and grinned. "No, he earned his freedom himself," She replied. Though Anakin would probably have credited his freedom to Qui-gon Jinn, Intrepid credited it to himself.

"Oh," En-lai cleared his throat. "So, it's not impossible?" He asked, almost shyly. He seemed to think Intrepid would know. To her credit, she did. "No, only difficult. But usually what is hard is right," she said, and then stopped to realize her words. In war, you usually had to look at the easiest and most stress-free way to do things. There was stress enough in war without something being added to it. Intrepid was used to the easy way.

What she had done the night before, trying to save that man, for her, had been easy. It had been instinct, and while that instinct to save life was good, she had not thought about later; the future, what could happen. She had not taken the future consequences into consideration.

She had expected the others to agree with her because she was _used_ to people agreeing with her. She was accustomed-so much so that she expected it- to people following her every word because she was a Jedi, a general. They knew she was supposed to save lives. They knew she had a duty and right to take away those that stood in her way.

Here, that knowledge was obsolete.

_ You're not a Jedi here. You're a normal person. A slave. A good person trying to do good things. Not a Jedi. You aren't anything spectacular here. No power, no advantages, no respect. You have to earn it. Nothing comes the easy way. _

Before, being Jedi was normally enough, but now… That name meant nothing. She would have to earn her right to speak to these slaves, and convince them they deserved to be free. They would not believe her any other way. The authority that came with being a Jedi was gone.

And earn it she would, not as a Jedi, but as Infinity.

"Okay," En-lai continued gruffly, snapping her out of her thoughts. "I'll pretend, you steal. Good luck, Infinity," Intrepid nodded and watched as En-lai jumped down from his perch, landing right in front of the small stand below them. She leaned over the edge, using a hand to swipe back a head tail as she watched En-lai saunter up to the man as if he had all the money in the universe. She rolled her eyes with a small smile, _boys._

Despite En-lai's silliness, though, the large Wookie, with a small blaster holster tied around his waist, with several weapons placed in said holster, eyed his new customer with greed.

_ A shame. Wookie's are typically such gentle and kind creatures,_ Intrepid thought sadly. En-lai, with supreme debonair and dignity, bent over the array of strange and rotting fruits that were for sale. The Wookie let out a low grunt and En-lai nodded. _Hmm, he understands Wookie? Impressive,_ Intrepid thought, waiting for the creature's attention to remain solely on her partner.

Squinting, she peered at the others. Aziza and Azari were already ahead of them. She noticed a small hand jerk out from behind the otherwise occupied seller and quickly filch a small pastry from the shelf.

Meanwhile, the other twin engaged in a verbal contest shyly, scuffing her foot innocently as she examined the foods. The seller had a huge smile on his face, obviously intending to scam the small child.

_ Horrible man, stealing from children,_ she really should not have been surprised by the universe's evilness anymore, but Intrepid found some things especially shocking. How could you intend to basically steal from a defenseless _child_? Clucking her tongue, Intrepid glanced over at Dame and Cece.

Cece, fiery as she was, was arguing loudly with another woman over her grubby and faded silks. Dame was behind the woman, rummaging through her trove of further silks casually, as if he knew exactly what he was looking for. Intrepid giggled. And the woman was none the wiser, either.

En-lai, below her, seemed to be having quite the fun time. He was speaking to the Wookie calmly; hands folded over his chest as his eyes roamed the foods with mock thoughtfulness. The posture struck Intrepid as familiar. Her heart sunk, _Nava_ had used to stand just like that when she negotiated. Relaxed but determined.

_ Oh, master, I do miss you. _

Snarling with frustration over her juvenile feelings, she was an _adult_, for force sakes, Intrepid vaulted over the building and landed on top of the stand without a sound. En-lai glanced up at her, surprised at her agility, but made no other motion that indicated he knew she was there.

Intrepid winked at him and swung herself upside down, looking at the Wookie from upside down. He was in firm debate with En-lai, and did not notice her. _Perfect_, she thought as she made a low sound in her throat.

En-lai's eyes widened as the Wookie turned, only to see a flash of green head tail sailing back up. Intrepid made the sound again. She was having deliberate fun with this. The Wookie emitted a questioning snarl and bent over to find the sound on top of his enclosure. Thus, he did not notice as Intrepid dropped down next to En-lai and quickly snatched several pieces of fruit.

He nudged her with an inquisitive look. "I told you I've done this before," she hissed back, with a grin, as she vaulted back on top of the roof. _You know, I don't think this is the Jedi way,_ Intrepid contemplated with a chuckle. _But force, its fun._

Just in time, their victim returned to looking at En-lai, who gave him a friendly grin and shrugged. "A bird, maybe," he replied in answer to the Wookie's question.

"Hmm?" He continued as Intrepid hastily snatched more pieces, debating what her next move could be. "Am I with Margo? Well, opinions may vary," he said. Intrepid restrained a snort at that. She sighed, already feeling how badly her back would sting with this attempt, and crawled adjacent to her current position, so that she was creeping right above the Wookie's head, hanging upside down on to the zenith.

Her cuts from the night before burned in protest as she wriggled above the Wookie and gazed at En-lai; who glanced at her nonchalantly, though his eyes sparkled with new admiration. "What about this, sir?" He asked The Wookie as he gestured to an array of colorful vegetables.

_ Oh, nice tactic. I get the hint, my friend,_ with a nod of compliance; Intrepid tapped the Wookie's shoulder lightly. With a cry of fright, the Wookie turned with his blaster suddenly in hand. En-lai wasted no time in grabbing several more vegetables. _That's twenty,_ Intrepid counted boredily. _Let's see if we can go to forty. _

En-lai, though, stashing his catches in the bag at his side, motioned for them to go before the Wookie caught onto their tricks. Intrepid, determined, shook her head. En-lai's mouth quirked up in a grin and he shook his head at her with amusement.

Before Intrepid could devise another tedious distraction to the now completely befuddled Wookie, a scream of indignance shattered the marketplace.

"Thief!" It was coming from the woman Dame and Cece had been distracting. "THIEF! SCOUNDRELS! THIEVES!" The woman screamed, pointing after them with a blaster. Cece and Dame, caught, were now running towards the alley.

"Hay! Get back here! Thieves!" Blast, now the man Aziza and Azari had been stealing from had caught on. Only a matter of time before the Wookie did as well. "My good man," En-lai seemed to have realized this, he bowed at the waist, hand scuffing the ground elegantly. "I bid thee farewell. Come on, Infinity," he called casually.

"Right behind you," Intrepid answered cheerily as she soared from under the Wookie's ceiling, landing gracefully beside their leader. The Seller turned, and his mouth dropped, exposing long canines. Intrepid gave him an apologetic grin and wave, before sprinting after En-lai.

Behind them, their quarry bellowed with rage, and several blaster shots whizzed past them. Cece ran to their side, laughing breathlessly. "Your plan worked, Infinity! We got more stuff than we've ever managed!" She gasped out, in her glee temporarily forgetting that she hated Intrepid.

"We're not out of the woods yet!"Intrepid replied, glancing at Aziza and Azari as they joined their sides, bag bulging and smiles enormous. Her heart lifted a tad at those smiles. At least she had done some good for them since her preceding mistake.

_One of them is going to shoot us soon,_ she considered as she glanced behind them. They were being pursued, and by people with very big blasters. _You would kill children because they're doing what they've been forced too?_ She thought hotly. How _is that fair? We don't have a choice!_

It was not fair, and that was what life was, by nature. It wasn't fair.

They ducked into the alleyway, slowing. "Remember, we need to get their weapons!" En-lai reminded them as they turned. "Aziza, Azari, take the bags and go," he pointed up, at the building beside them. Both twins nodded and hurriedly took the bags from their older counterparts, unworried.

With an agility they should not have possessed, they scampered up the walls with the heavy bags. Intrepid exhaled and looked at her comrades, still slightly taken aback when she saw not clones, Ahsoka, and Lux, but these slaves who fought for their life, and not liberty.

_Which one is nobler?_ She wondered. _If you fight to survive, or if you fight for a cause? Aren't they both a just and wise cause? Which do the Jedi fight for nowadays? _The fact that she did not know the answer made Intrepid's stomach churn uncomfortably.

"Get ready," En_-_lai murmured as the sounds of footsteps came steadily closer. Aziza and Azari scrambled onto the roof of the building and crouched, watching warily.

Cece's eyes narrowed and Dame lingered without enthusiasm. Intrepid exhaled again. _Keep your mind in the here and now,_ she ordered herself. A large head appeared in the alleyway entrance.

Poking in came a half dozen enraged sellers whom they had scammed to survive. Intrepid felt a pang of guilt, as horrible as these people were they had a life to live too, they had income coming in from those sales, the things they had just stolen.

_ And what with the Sith raising taxes every five minutes_, _they need all the money they can get. _

Intrepid pursed her lips and shook her head. Maybe there was a way they did not have to fight. Peace was the Jedi Way, exiled or not. "Wait," She said, holding out an arm as their trackers advanced and the others tensed, ready for a fight that would end in more stealing.

"What?" En-lai, Cece, and Dame demanded in unison. Intrepid ignored the incredulous looks they were casting at her and stepped forward, staring at their attackers without fear. Said attackers, surprised by Intrepid's brave step forward, also halted, staring at her warily. She felt sweat form under her arms at the sight of six blaster barrels threatening her.

She tipped her chin up. "I'm sorry," she started. This response was obviously unexpected. "_You're what_?" This time, the question came from all present. "I'm sorry," Intrepid repeated calmly, meekly.

She met each eye before her. "I know we stole from you. I can understand why you'd be angry. You need those things to pay your bills and raise your families," she sympathized.

The woman nodded, her eyes sparking with something Intrepid had seen in the eyes of other mothers throughout the war. When you did horrible things for the people you loved, it still wasn't right, but it made it easier to understand.

Intrepid continued. The men glared at her distrustfully. "We understand. We know. We have to do this, or Margo will kill us, all of us, in the worst way," she gestured behind her at the others. "That isn't our problem," one of the sellers mumbled.

Intrepid snapped her eyes around to meet his. "Actually," she snapped back, harshly. "It is. Because the more Margo manipulates us, the more items we have to steal from you to live. The more we steal; the less money you get to live your own lives. But we can help one another," she proposed.

The Wookie grunted in what Intrepid assumed was a demand of how exactly they could do that. She wished Ahsoka were at her side. _She _could understand Wookie.

She took another step forward, and, daring not to think, laid a hand on the blaster barrel, gently pushing it away from her face. "We'll do trade," she amended. A chorus of laughter met this idea. Intrepid only blinked.

"What could you slaves_ possibly_ have to offer us?" the woman gasped in between cackles. Intrepid chuckled herself. "We can make those quilts and silks you have. And we can make them shiny, and brand new. We can make you _fresh_ pastries, so you won't have to sell those old, mold-infested ones. We can grow you more fruits and vegetables, because we do it all anyway. Don't you think more people would buy your things if they are new than if they aren't?" She wondered.

This statement was met with interested glances between the vendors. "And extend the invitation to everyone," she nodded to the few people that had come at the call of thieves. "We can trade. We get the old things to take back to Margo, and we'll make you new things to replace what we've taken," she folded her hands behind her back, waiting.

"And…And you speak true, girly? This isn't some trick by Margo?" The man asked. Intrepid took a third step forward, coming within inches of the distrustful but hopeful people whose lives meant no more or little than hers. They were _all _equal. She extended her hand genially, knowing that it could very well be gone the next second.

"You have my word," she vowed. Struck dumb by this humble and clever deal and unknown compassion, the merchants merely stared with a tad of nervousness. Sometimes admiration and respect were mistaken for fear.

Intrepid waited patiently as silence took over, strenuously debating whether her word was true, in a place where words were not tools of communication and trust, but lies and greed. Intrepid, if anything else, would teach these people what else words could do. Had done before.

"Okay," the woman was the first to step forward. She took Intrepid's hand in hers and shook it firmly. "If you can stand here at blaster point and try to help us, then I can take a chance to help you," she huffed, with glittering eyes but a hard face. Intrepid smiled in appreciation.

"I guess so," one of the men said.

"Hay, you're a brave girl, I'll shake your hand just for that,"

"Yah, you don't see kindness so much down here. I'll grab your hand, girl,"

"Margo needs to be stopped. Maybe you can do it,"

Intrepid looked at the one person remaining. It was the Wookie. He glared at Intrepid, arms crossed, as her hands the others grabbed and squeezed her hands warmly. They believed in her word not because she was Jedi, but because she had earned it herself.

Intrepid looked at the outlier kindly. "Come on. We are _all_ equal," she said. The others turned to look at the Wookie, who scuffed his feet on the ground nervously. Suddenly, he did not look like a threatening warrior, scarred and ready for a fight, but an unsure man who was afraid.

Proving this statement, the Wookie muttered something guttural. Intrepid looked back at En-lai, who was studying her with curiosity. He quickly turned away at her look and listened to the Wookie repeat himself.

His eyebrows shot up. "What did he say, lad?" the woman asked, without the accusatory edge to her voice, she sounded old enough to be a grandmother.

_We were stealing from an old woman_, Intrepid realized. _She may have wanted to scam us, but force, what if she's sick? What if she had needed our money for medicine? To go to a doctor's? How far does this chain go?_ She wondered, with new shame.

"He said…" En-lai hesitated. "He said he'll do it if we agree to help him find his son. Margo kidnapped him when he was a little boy, and he hasn't seen him since. He's been looking for him," Why wasn't Intrepid surprised? She nodded and extracted one hand to offer him. "I can't guarantee we'll _find _him, but we will try. You have my word," she promised.

That sealed it. He stepped forward and gripped her hand, shaking it excitedly. His joy and hope shone bright through the force, and Intrepid vowed that even if she could not find his son, she would at least find out what his demise had been, for his father.

With a grin, she looked about at her newfound friends and shook her head. A famous quote rang through her head. _"Always be kind, for everyone is fighting hard battle," _

A battle indeed.

* * *

A small announcement: I could not decide whether Lux was a prince or not. In the Clone Wars, his mother is obviously a senator, but her surroundings screamed royalty to me, so I figured she might have been like Satine. A monarch representing her own planet in the senate. Or maybe Dooku's old senate worked differently. Nevertheless, in this version, Lux is a prince politically speaking, which will pose advantages and disadvantages in the future. ;)


	20. A visit from uncle Obi

**_Two days later:_**

~Anakin's POV~

"So, even after you said they couldn't go, she still went behind your back and did it anyway?" Shantra asked as she walked in and handed Anakin a cup of caf. He took it gratefully and sipped at the drink with a nod. "Yeah. She obviously thought I was kidding," he sighed without humor.

Shantra chuckled. "Most women do. Well, you have a right to be mad. She could have at least waited until you got back to get into another argument with you about it. But not go behind your back, that's blatant disrespect for your decisions right there," She observed.

Anakin exhaled, glad that _someone_ saw his point. "I know. It's as if she assumes what she thinks is more important than what I think. Like she's _better_ than me," he growled. "I'm sure she doesn't think exactly that," Shantra scolded, sipping her own hot mug of caf.

"It's a woman thing, Ace. We like to have control over our own children. She_ did_ carry them around for nine months. All you did was plant a seed, stupid male. And she's a new mother, they're always restless. Give her time to balance things out," Shantra advised.

Anakin looked at her oddly. "How do you know so much about being a mother, huh? Do you have children?" he asked. Shantra snorted loudly. "_Me?_ heck no. But I had three older siblings and six younger, and my mother was only in her thirties. Then my step-mother had four children and my step father had two. And I won't even add my second step-mother and half brothers and sisters," she grunted. Anakin stared at her.

"You lived with that many kids?" He demanded. Shantra nodded and smiled dully. "Now you see why I moved out so fast? I call in every now and then, but…" She shrugged.

"They'll live without me. Besides, I'm only a planet away," she said. Anakin laughed. "I would have strangled them," he chortled. "Oh, I _tried_. Little kids are resilient," Shantra groaned.

She sighed and set the caf down on the desk. "Where'd you go, anyway? Not that I mind watching the shop for you while you're away, but you were gone two weeks," she said. Anakin quickly changed the subject. "What? Did you miss me?" he teased. Shantra gave him a withering look.

"_You_? Um, no. I missed beating you in pod-racing video simulations. I haven't beaten anyone so hard in years," she snickered. Anakin nudged her. "Whatever!" he said indignantly as she laughed.

Shaking her head, Shantra peered at the time. "Oh, blast! I've got to go! I'm visiting the charity foundation today. We're looking into setting up a new fundraiser to get some money for an organization we sponsor," she said, quickly snatching up her purse. "What organization?" Anakin asked curiously.

Shantra did not answer. Instead only looked up at him with contemplating, distraught eyes that told him the answer. He stared back, and suddenly grinned. "You're a very brave person, Shantra," he said softly, knowing the risks and the punishments for such an action. She was risking her life every day on this planet, just like him.

She grinned. "Well, those Jedi can't do it themselves, now can they? The rebels need all of us, not just those that will fight with blasters," he nodded. "Cheers to that!" he agreed enthusiastically.

Shantra laughed and gulped down the rest of her caf quickly. "Well I'm off! See you later Ace!" She called, rushing off. Anakin waved. "Bye, Shantra! And thanks for listening!" She had been up with him since one o clock that morning listening to him, actually.

Anakin had never met a person so adept at just sitting and listening to another being rant without so much as uttering word.

With a last little wave of answer, Shantra was gone. Anakin sighed and looked back to the room where he was supposed to be fixing two speeders, a broken down carriage engine and a butler droid. He could finish all of those projects that day, if he wanted.

Setting his cup down, he stood and walked into the back room, surveying which project would be wiser to begin first. Though, a sound reached his ears, faint as the whisper of the wind_. "Fatha!"_ he twirled around, shocked out of his right mind. Was that Luke?

It was. A second later, his excited four year old bounded into the room, a soggy cone of some sort in his hand and his face streaked with small crumbs, red lipstick and partially dried ice cream. Leia followed, licking something gooey and pink off her fingers happily.

_ "Luke? Leia?"_ he gasped out-loud. How had they gotten here? And _why_ did they both smell like expensive perfume and baked things? "Fatha!" Luke threw his arms around Anakin as he knelt to demand these things.

Adding to the long list of confusing things that had occurred that minute, a swift, robust body suddenly uncurled from the ceiling, landing behind Anakin with barely a sound.

"Hello, old friend," Said Obi-wan Kenobi, dusting off his expensive appearing suit busily. "Master!" Anakin gasped joyfully, delighted to see his companion. They had been living their own separate lives for weeks, yet to see one another.

"Fatha, Obi's house is _awesome_!" Leia told him, jumping up and down on her toes excitedly. "Yah! And his speeder is so cool!" Luke added, his giant brown eyes sparkling with delight.

Anakin had to grin back at them. "Oh, really? You went to go see Obi?" he asked. "And Nava, too!" Leia added. "Nava looked pretty," Luke informed him shyly. "And The big lizard man showed us how to make candy!" Leia burst out.

Anakin glanced behind him at Obi-wan, smiling down at the twin with crossed arms. "Big lizard man?" he asked, unsure if he should be worried. "Dex," Obi-wan explained hurriedly. Anakin laughed. "Dexster Jettster? Oh! How is he?" He asked, but before Obi-wan could answer, the twins went on.

"And then we went to an…An…Obi, what's it called?"Leia asked, looking to Obi-wan for help. "An orphanage?" Obi-wan suggested. "Yah! That thing! And we saw all the kids who don't got a home, and we played with them," she told him, proudly. "They're nice," Luke agreed.

Anakin chuckled, his spirits lifted. "Then we helped Obi's Wookie friend comb his hair. He has a _lot._ Then we went to Obi's big company office! We spun around in his spin chair and went on the elevator and met all the desk ladies and…And…"Luke was so excited he couldn't finish.

Leia did it for him. "And Obi's office is up high! It was a billion-trillion feet up! Where the _birds _go! And guess what? Obi has a fish tank with cute fish. We got to feed the fishy's. They like to eat things," she pondered.

"Really?" Anakin asked, chuckling. He glanced back at Obi-wan affectionately. "Did you know that, Obi-wan? That fish like to eat things?" he inquired. "Before I met you? No," Obi-wan snorted. Anakin laughed and looked back at the twins, still babbling about their day.

"Then we went to a fluffy room in Obi's house and we got to dress up like people," Luke wrinkled his nose, this obviously having been the one down side to his trip. Leia was aglow with exhilaration. "Nava made me look like mommy!" She cried. "You already do," Anakin pointed out happily.

"Obi told us stories. Fatha, were you really an uncivilized, disruptive brat?" Luke asked. Anakin glared at Obi-wan, who gave him a sheepish smile. "Obi thinks so, apparently," he replied, inconspicuously chucking a small screwdriver at his friend.

Obi-wan neatly ducked against the attack. "Oh! Oh! The best part, fatha! Obi has a _pod racer_!" Luke burst out. Anakin recoiled in surprise. "A what?" he gasped. "It is not…"Obi-wan began.

"It's a pod racer," Luke interrupted. "And there are two racers, and a big race track! Nava said she convinced Obi to get it for us, since he said pod-racing is unsophisticated tomfoolery and if I ever did it like you, he'd skin the both of us," Luke told him knowingly.

Anakin winked at Luke. "We'll do it in secret," he assured his son in a whisper. Luke giggled and nodded. Leia narrowed her eyes. "They're gonna do it in secret, Obi!" She announced loudly.

"Thank you, spy," Obi-wan snickered behind them. Anakin chucked another sharper object at him, this time without turning. Once again, Obi-wan sidestepped it. "Then we got ice cream," Leia finished, unawares of her treason. "I got chocolate," Luke explained, grinning with browned teeth.

"And I got strawberry," Leia added, also grinning with pinkish teeth. Anakin laughed and patted both shoulders. "I'm glad you had fun," he said. "Now, why don't you two go figure out how to turn Artoo on? He's mad at me and refuses to come to," he said, gesturing to the droid in the corner.

"Okay!" Determined to solve the problem, Luke and Leia scuttled over to the droid and began poking and prodding at Artoo logically, whispering quietly like mad scientists. Anakin chuckled and stood.

"Brothem," he greeted affectionately, turning. Obi-wan was studying the area around them with exasperation. "Why can't you ever put things in proper places?" Obi-wan sighed.

Anakin laughed. "Why'd you sugar-hype my twins?" he countered. Obi-wan's mouth quirked up at the edges. "So they would drive you insane," he admitted. "Well, that's why I can't put things in their proper places. Why exactly did you jump down from my ceiling instead of walking in the front door like normal people?" he wondered. Obi-wan glanced at him.

"Well, it's rather complicated. Simply said, Osiris Aethra cannot be caught in this place without ensuing a great gossip scandal, and gossip scandals are very distasteful, believe me," he said, at last.

Anakin nodded in understanding. "At least I can see you put your gift to good use," Obi-wan commented lightly, glancing at the other room. Anakin grinned and bowed at the waist, hand sweeping the floor. "Of course. Professionalism _is_ my specialty," he straightened up, somberly.

"Master, you should not have done this. That was_ your_ inheritance," he said softly. Obi-wan did not seem disturbed. "On my planet, if the owner isn't using it, the inheritance would automatically go to his first born son," he said, studying the ceiling as if it were wonderfully interesting, despite the fact Anakin knew he could not see anything besides the solid object part of the equation. "I wasn't using it, and you were the closest thing," Obi-wan finished, with a small shrug.

Anakin's heart contracted at that answer hidden in a lecture. Obi-wan had already lost one child, Qyula Kenobi, along with her mother while Qyula was still unborn. He knew the mark of grief even now followed his master. Anakin was the child Obi-wan had lost. And in more ways than one, though Obi-wan would never admit it aloud.

He grinned. "You spoil me, don't you know that?" he asked. Obi-wan grinned back at him. "Oh, I do, yes. I've been told often. How's Padme?" he inquired. Anakin sighed and groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Padme? Oh, she's fine. Driving me mad, but fine," he explained pitifully. Obi-wan laughed. "Ah, the normal case of woman unreasonableness?" he asked. Anakin nodded miserably.

Obi-wan chuckled. "I see. Poor boy, I always knew it was coming. Soon you'll be throwing things at each other. During that time, I suggest you protect your internal organs," his glance told Anakin just what internal organ he meant. He laughed. "You know about these things, my master?" he asked impishly.

Obi-wan shrugged. "It happens with every couple, Anakin. Marriage is a rocky road, I assure you, and it won't grow smooth until you're on your death bed and can finally agree on one thing, which, of course, is death itself," he told him. Anakin was aghast. "You mean she'll drive me insane _forever_?" He demanded. "And ever," Obi-wan added.

"Siri drove me livid every time she looked at me. And sometimes when she wasn't yet in the room. And don't even get me started on the time she tried to stab me in the dojo, she _said_ it was an accident, but I was well aware that she was trying to murder me. I knew she was, because when I woke up in the med-bay, she left me flowers that she _knew_ I was allergic too, and in her haste to get them_ 'away'_ from me, she dropped them in my lap. While I was coughing and sneezing out my fair entrails, she tried to _'readjust'_ my pillow and somehow the object ended up covering my face. Again, she insists that she wasn't trying to kill me but I knew she was. Anakin why are you laughing?" Anakin had started laughing after the dojo accident.

He held his side, bent over as he snickered violently. Luke and Leia went on with their business, accustomed to Anakin's oddness.

Finally, he stood back up, wiping at the tear that ran from his eye. "That bad, huh?" He asked. Obi-wan, looking very much pleased with himself; nodded.

Anakin knew that behind the grin, Obi-w an was probably hiding some amount of anguish. He rarely spoke of Siri. "It only lasts a few months, Anakin, fret not. Just try to survive them while you can," he said. Anakin nodded, grateful for the advice. "Thanks, master. I don't know what I would do without you. By the way, why did you have the twins anyway?" he asked.

Obi-wan waved his hand dismissively. "Padme said she had some errands to run, and Nava has wanted to see the twins for awhile yet. She wanted to show them off to her friends, I suspect," he said.

Anakin sighed, so, Padme had decided to dump the twins off with Nava and Obi-wan whenever she wanted to go out, huh? Seems they would have to have another talk.

Wonderful.

"Well, thanks for taking care of them," he said. "Oh, no problem. They're quite interesting to be around. They brought smiles to everyone's faces, and Dex absolutely adores them. You have good kids, Anakin," that statement made Anakin's heart swell with pride. He cast proud and affectionate eyes over at his twins. "Yah, I do," he agreed, softly.

"Anyhow, I want your opinion on something," Obi-wan continued, with a lopsided smile at his pride. "_My_ opinion?" he said, surprised. "On what?" he asked. Obi-wan sighed and folded his arms casually, though he seemed tired.

"Well…Its complicated. Much in the business world is, I'm coming to find out. It's nothing like politics. The gist of it is that I need to expand the corporation, and I've found a good way to do that. I can buy this land you see, enough land to build an extension of the company on and gain more income and greater opportunities," Anakin didn't see the problem. "And?" he urged.

"And…"Obi-wan looked slightly uncomfortable. "The land I want to build all of this on is occupied already by several other small and local businesses, Anakin. People work and live there; that's their _livelihood_. I can't just take it from them," ah, the old fiasco of secret identities. How to remain loyal to your morals and fit in at the same time.

"I see your issue," he said. Obi-wan nodded. "Business is business, but not at the cost of lives," he sighed. Anakin shifted feet, thinking. He grunted in agreement and shook his head.

"Well…Ah, here's a possible solution. Just give all the people you'll have to renounce jobs in the corporation. It will mean higher pay and better life conditions for all of them," Anakin suggested.

Obi-wan stared at him. "Anakin, that's brilliant! Why didn't I think of that? Yes, with the new building, it will _need_ more employees. I hadn't thought of that," yes, well, Anakin was just that incredible. Brilliant minds; ran in the family, they did. Or at least they could, Anakin supposed.

"Yes, yes, I can do that. I'll have to work on that promptly. Well, it's time for me to be going," Obi-wan mumbled thoughtfully stroking his beard. Anakin felt disappointment ripple through him.

"Your leaving already?" he asked, trying not to sound as if he were whining, but force, he had not seen Obi-wan in months. "Yes, Anakin. In case you have not noticed, it's getting to be sunset soon. And I have plans to formulate," and Anakin had a wife to talk too. He was not eager to start.

He sighed and nodded. "We need to plan a day where I can sneak in that house of yours and kidnap you for a day. We'll go out and trash a bunch of clubs, deal?" Obi-wan chuckled. "Agree to my own kidnapping? Not likely. You'll be fine without my assistance," he said.

"Yah, yah. Luke, Leia, come say bye to Obi," he called over. Both twins looked up. "Obi going?" Luke demanded. Leia gasped and rushed to grab his leg. "_Nooo!_ I want Obi to stay! Obi, you stay here so I can watch you!" She protested, gripping his leg determinedly.

Obi-wan sighed, covering his face tiredly, indicating that perhaps Leia had been doing this particular stunt all day. Anakin laughed. "I don't want Obi to go nowhere! He's _mine_!" Leia cried, burying her face in his calf.

"Oh, no you don't, he's mine. I got him first. And he has to go, Leia, so that he can build you another big office building with more spin chairs," Anakin explained.

Leia glared at him before looking up at Obi-wan. She wailed. "I don't want more spin chairs! I want my Obi!" she protested. Obi-wan groaned at that and shook his head. Luke walked over, gave Obi-wan a half hug around the right leg and then stepped back.

"Bye, Obi," he said nonchalantly. He tapped Leia on the shoulder. "Leia, Obi has to go home now," he explained again, tolerantly. "NO!" Obi-wan cast a helpless look at Anakin. "Leia, get off my leg please. I'm coming back," Obi-wan tried to negotiate. Leia pouted, looking up with large brimming eyes.

"You are?" She sniffled. "Yes, for force sakes. I'll come pick you up when the building is done, alright? I'll let you and Luke have a fish from the fish tank," that got her attention.

Her eyes grew larger. "I can have a fishy?" She repeated with amazement. "If you want me to eat him," Anakin mumbled. Luke giggled. Leia looked back at Obi-wan, her lip quivering. "Obi! Fatha's going eat my fishy!" She wailed, suddenly in tears.

Obi-wan sent Anakin a sharp glance. "For the _love_ of…Leia, he was just joking. He won't eat your fish, alright? If he does Obi will hit him, are you appeased?" he questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"No," Leia sighed. "What else do you want?" Anakin demanded, faintly annoyed now. Leia sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "Obi, you gotta be_ careful_, okay? You and Nava. You gotta be there," she growled.

"Be where?" Obi-wan asked in unison to Anakin and Luke. "When fatha fixes everything and we get to be Jedi again. You're not allowed to die. You have to be there, too. Okay?" Obi-wan's face fell. Anakin felt his heart contract. They were too young to worry about things like that. They _shouldn't._

"I will, Leia. I'll be careful, I promise," Obi-wan agreed, patting her back. Leia nodded, nullified, and stood, getting off his leg. Anakin exchanged worried glances with Obi-wan. "Come on, Leia," Luke said, trying to sound cheerful as he tugged on her hand. "We almost got Artoo to work! Come on!" he said. Leia nodded and let Luke drag her away.

Anakin sighed. "They shouldn't worry about things like that," he growled once they were out of earshot. Obi-wan shook his head. "Do you think they're starting to have premonitions?" he asked worriedly. Anakin shuddered. He knew that the day would come, some day, but so soon? They weren't ready.

"Let's hope not. Here, since Leia stole my promise, I wanted to give you this. It's sort of lame compared to what you've given me, but…" He shrugged and fished the gift out of his pocket. Knowing that Obi-wan could not see him, he took his hand and placed it in his palm, closing his fingers around it.

Obi-wan opened his hand and stroked it inquisitively. "What is it?" he asked, unseeing of anything but the small wood circle. "It's sort of like the bracelet I made Padme. Yours is an arm brace though. You feel those symbols on the wood?" He asked. Obi-wan nodded, fascinated.

"Its force sensitive," he pointed out, intrigued. "Yes. To match Qui-gon's stone. Those symbols are Huttese for big brother. Brothem. I have an identical one, you can guess what mine says," he said.

Obi-wan smiled. "Brothen," he guessed correctly. Anakin smiled. Obi-wan nodded and squeezed his shoulder. "I wish I could see it. Thank you, little brother," he said gratefully. Anakin sighed wholeheartedly.

"I wish I could give you more. Off you go, and give Nava my regards," Obi-wan nodded. "Always," he agreed.


	21. A new idea and new dilemma

~Padme's POV~

"Well, how were you supposed to know that the daycare was that bad? You stayed half an hour, double the time most other mothers might've stayed. You didn't know," Jiro said frankly, unfazed by her account.

Padme sighed and nodded, looking desolately out of the café shop window. "I know, Jiro. That is not the point though. I betrayed his trust. He _trusted_ me to believe him at his word and I failed. Then he had to clean up my mess," She sighed, explaining.

"Well, you weren't the one specifically to set up that situation for him. And you had good intentions in mind," Jiro assured her gently. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Page. You are a good wife. You merely made a mistake. I'm sure he will forgive you," Jiro said, specifically not using her nor Anakin's name in public.

Though there were only a couple stragglers in line and sitting at the tables around them, all cautions had to be taken.

Padme sighed and put her elbow up, leaning her cheek against the smooth curve of her palm and smiled ruefully. "You don't know my husband," she sighed. "He can hold a grudge for a very long time. Years, even. And his trust is betrayed so frequently it is often hard to earn back," she said, and the thought that _she_ had betrayed his trust, like the spies, bounty hunters, soldiers and hundreds of other people throughout the war had betrayed his trust, was unconceivable.

"All good things to those who wait," Jiro replied mysteriously. Padme rolled her eyes at him. Mystic riddles thousands of years old? Force, he was just like a Jedi! Jiro chuckled. "Yes, thank you Jiro, for that Jedi like quote. As if I don't get enough. So, when is the next meeting going to be?" She asked.

"Next Tuesday, sometime, I think. Why, you don't plan on leaving me without my prime sparring partner, do you?" Jiro asked. Padme sipped her caf absently. "Hmm? Oh, I was only thinking we might have it at my house next time," she said.

Jiro scowled and eyed her worriedly. "Page," he began cautiously, glancing about at the listening ears of their fellow Empire citizens. "That could be extremely dangerous," he said quickly.

Padme nodded; she was cognizant of this. Very much so, in fact. "I know. But it's the only solution I could come up with," she said. "Have the meetings at my home every week, so that I won't have to leave," she said. "And the twins?" Jiro inquired with some concern.

"It's not healthy for them to be trapped in that house all day, Page. They need to socialize," and that was the basis of their problems, now wasn't it? The twins. Luke and Leia, two force sensitive children that despite their amazing abilities; needed the exact same socialization and experiences as other kids. Could not have someone given her a manual for these situations?

With a sigh of acquiescence, Padme set her chin on her palms, eyeing her friend without emotion. "You're opinion?" She beseeched, at a total loss. There were no children in their neighborhood she wanted them near in any situation.

The twins needed _friends,_ not future criminal associates.

"Well," Jiro leaned back and stroked his chin, thinking with a thoughtfulness she admired. Most men acted upon impulse, and those that didn't were not inclined to use their heads. Anakin used his head _after_ the impulse failed miserably.

"Hmm…We could…" Padme perked up, all ears. "No, no, we couldn't do that," Jiro shook his head, eyes cats downcast in supreme concentration. Padme huffed and crossed her arms as he glanced up at her with teasing.

"You're too serious, Page. I came up with your answer five minutes ago. You know that daycare you spoke of?" She nodded, curious as to know what consideration she had yet to think up.

"Well, I'd say that old woman needs some support. You're young, very good with children and your own twins need socialization. Added to this, the neighborhood future felons could use some nurturing as well. They are the future of all this, Page," he gestured around at the café, indicating the walls beyond, and the boundaries beyond, and the universe overall.

"They will dictate what happens. Who knows, maybe you'll even inspire the future government of this great Empire," Jiro smiled, letting her know just which Empire of which he thought. He was so infantile, so confident that everything would fix itself in the end. That sort of innocence was inspiring.

"Me? Work in a daycare?" She demanded, incredulous. Of all the careers she could have pursued in her life, working in a daycare had never been in that list of possible career choices.

It was not that she had anything _against _the idea, and Jiro was right, she was very good with kids, hadn't Anakin told her as much so many times before? And Nava? But she just had never imagined herself in such an atmosphere before.

"Well? Why not? You're bored to death in that house anyway. Being a stay at home mother was never going to satisfy you fully anyway. I knew that about you the second I saw you. It is just not your thing; some women can do it and some can't. It doesn't mean that you're destined to be a bad mother, it only means your independent, and you'll be helping people; which is a bonus," he told her perceptively.

_"You have that choice, and you're choosing to squander it for a load of idiot ideals!" _Anakin's voice rang in her mind, a reminder of one of their first big fights since they had gotten married. Was he right? Most women would die for the chance she had, to spend every day with their children.

_ But most women aren't trying to lead a rebellion and be a mother, _she remembered. That was the one error in Anakin's argument. They were trying to raise the twins as one would raise normal children, only with the force powers added in.

Sure, they were on Courascant, and they had to hide their true identities, but that did not mean they had to _forget_ about them. She was Padme Amidala, Senator for the Rebel Alliance, and Page Abner was a mere decoy to help that cause. That was their reality. Nothing more or less. She had a war to win, and what else mattered besides that?

Padme stood. "Where are you going?" Jiro asked curiously as she walked past him towards the door. "To daycare," Padme answered with a lazy wave of her hand. She knew he grinned behind her. "There's a girl. Wait for me, I'm coming with you!" He called. Padme stopped in the doorway, surprised. "You are?" She asked as he jogged beside her.

"Of course I am. I've got your back, Page," he said, linking his arm through hers. Padme grinned back up at her friend gratefully. "I appreciate that, Jiro," she replied. "Come on, let's go," and so they marched back into the world, two people dedicated to justice, and absolutely nothing more.

* * *

~Ahsoka's POV~

Ahsoka was on the ceiling while the party went on. Down below, her quarry seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Then again, he was drunk, and all of them were enjoying the fool the drunkard was making out of himself and the galaxy of fellow drunkards as well.

She rolled her eyes, wondering why exactly these people needed to make themselves so helplessly ignorant to the world around them with that green, foul smelling liquor. _"Fools often lead each other with thin and cheap leashes," _that was an old saying of Master Plo's.

Ahsoka swallowed past the lump in her throat at the thought of the dead Jedi master who had been her mentor since she was a toddler. He had died during the Last Battles, and his memory haunted her still.

Banishing those thoughts from her mind, Ahsoka swung down from the ceiling into the loud and colorful atmosphere of drunkenness. The club was small, and thus was overcrowded with faces and smells and people whose identities were not her concern. _Technically, __**none**__ of this should be my concern_; she reflected bitterly watching the tomfoolery below.

The fact that she was a part of it was just as worrying. Dispatching these thoughts from her mind, Ahsoka crouched among the party, glaring at the loud lights and even louder music that blared down at her.

Where was her query? There; the human sitting by the counter. By long habit, Ahsoka assessed several things. _Human_, she recorded in her mental database. _Golden hair, pale skin…Turn around, man, so I can get a good look at you… And…Female?_ Well, Ahsoka, despite being acquainted with the fact that women could be just as destructive as men, had not been expecting that.

Pure golden hair spiraled down her shoulders in beautiful golden locks. Her pale green eyes and velvety white skin shown with exertion in the bright multi-colored lights. Ahsoka did_ not _want to know what exact exertions she had been participating in. It was sure to be something vile.

With a sigh of disgust, Ahsoka uncurled down from the ceiling and landed softly on the ground right behind the drug-dealer. Drunk beyond comprehension, her quarry did not seem to notice. She went on, speaking at leisure with the rest of her disgusting associates.

Ahsoka, deciding that the easiest approach would be that of brusqueness, tapped the woman on the shoulder. The drug buyer twirled around so quickly she tripped over her own two feet and collapsed into Ahsoka's arms, giggling like the fool she was. Ahsoka sighed and propped the woman, several inches taller than her, up on her feet.

"Hay, sweetie, you want a chance, too?" the woman asked, glancing down at the clothing that did nothing to disguise her obviously large breasts. "No. I'm here to ask you something," Ahsoka replied, casually. "Oh?" The woman staggered backwards a trifle, sizing Ahsoka up defensively. "What? You a cop or something?" She demanded. _It wouldn't matter. You're too drunk to do anything even if I were one_ Ahsoka thought with disgust.

"Close enough," she answered honestly. "My employer wants to know why you keep giving him fake money," she explained. The woman's eyes widened. "You're with Bloodshot?" she demanded.

"Not in this lifetime, no," Ahsoka shuddered at the idea. The woman, though, had not been listening. With a speed only a drunkard could manage, a switchblade was all of a sudden sailing towards her head. Ahsoka inhaled sharply and caught the woman's wrist in a death lock.

This evidently did little. Ahsoka jumped as a thin leg swiped underneath her feet, trying in vain to trip her. The woman, though, was stronger than she appeared. Wrenching her knife from Ahsoka's grip, she slammed a fist into her cheek. Ahsoka staggered backwards, stunned by the blow.

Recovering quickly, she surged forward in time to snatch at the fleeing female's hair. _Thank the force I don't have hair_, she thought distantly as she tugged at the curls. The woman screamed as Ahsoka yanked her off her feet. "Little brat! Hay, can I get a little help here?" The woman bellowed furiously as she lashed out at Ahsoka's knees with her blade.

Ahsoka glanced about. Some of the other club members had been riled by their entertainments and evidently called for help. Several people stood, and, holding beer bottles, stormed at her.

Ahsoka ducked, causing the strike taken at her to hit the woman fighting behind her instead. _Oh, great. Now I have to deal with these fools too._ With the force, this would have been a much easier task, but Ahsoka could not use the force.

With a huff, she released the woman hair and grabbed her bow, only to feel the sharp pain of a blade slashing open her calf. Ahsoka grunted in pain, and smacked away the woman with her bow. More people joined the group encircling her cautiously, eyes on her bow.

Ahsoka twirled around. She was surrounded, brilliant. Somehow this would be entirely too familiar if these were mindless droids who she could confuse easily. Drunk or not, these weren't droids, but beings, and beings were smart.

Proving this wise bit of information, Ahsoka felt the bow twisted from her grip. A second later, several blows struck her head, and a dainty hand grabbed her left head tail. Ahsoka kicked at the fists and grabbed the wrist which held her most fragile limb hostage.

Squeezing, she felt small wrist bones crack and shatter under her hand.

_Okay, time to go_, she decided dizzily. The blows to her head were making her thoughts scattered. "Whelp!" the woman screeched as she grabbed Ahsoka's hand and bent it behind her in an angle that was beyond painful.

Ahsoka gasped and clenched her teeth tightly as her other hand gave someone near her a sharp smack. Suddenly, her legs were slashed with something sharp. Ahsoka buckled to her knees, and a sharp kick to the head was all that was needed to send her into blackness.


	22. Monster

~Padme's POV~

Anakin was in the doorway. "I have a question," he said, with an inquisitive tenseness that told Padme he was unhappy about something. Again. Really, Padme was getting rather irritated by how much he seemed to be unhappy with her for everything lately.

"Do you?" She asked, turning from her small vanity, where she had been brushing her hair. Anakin stood there, arms crossed and expression strangely emotionless.

"Why did you send Luke and Leia's to Obi-wan's today?" He asked. Padme recoiled, surprised. She had not told him about that. Then again, despite the role he seemed fit to play here on Courascant, Padme had to remember that Anakin was indeed a Jedi, trained and bred to spy and just _know_ some things. She did not attempt to deny it, already caught.

She turned and grinned. At least he had given her a chance to explain. Once, he would not have. After those five months of Coptic with Obi-wan, though, he seemed more inclined to speak before he fought.

"I see you heard. Did they have fun?" She inquired innocently, buying for time. "A ball. And they're sugar hyped," Anakin answered mildly, flashing a grin. "But why did you send them there?" he asked again.

Padme shrugged. "Nava has been calling me every night demanding to know when we're coming to visit so that she could see them again. And besides, I needed them somewhere_ reliable_ while I went out for my job application," she replied.

Anakin cocked an eyebrow but remained silent. Sighing deeply, he ran a hand through his hair and attempted to look patient, which in his case only made him look stressed. "Job application?" He asked quietly. Padme smiled and nodded eagerly.

"Yes, Ani. I signed up to help that poor old lady with the Daycare today. Now Luke and Leia can be in daycare, I can stop being bored, watch over them, help this crime infested hovel and give that poor old lady a break," she told him, proud of herself.

In truth, she had never _applied_ for a job before. She had been voted in as queen, but her high status and excellent record had already guaranteed this would be done. Then, the Queen had_ insisted_ she become Senator for Naboo. She had never had to sincerely _earn_ her way through to a job.

Anakin was not reconciled. "I thought that we agreed the twins would _never_ go back to that place. And you might have given me a heads up before you went and signed up for a job, Padme," he tried to explain reasonably. Padme would stay levelheaded if he could.

"Yes, we did agree to that, but I'll be with them this time, Anakin," she reminded him, and then glared as she realized his other statement. "And I wasn't aware I needed your_ permission_," she said sourly. Anakin's jaw clenched and his eyes blazed, just barely.

"You don't need my permission. But seeing as how this will affect the entire family-_my_ family too, added-I would have liked to know. You could have at least asked for my opinion on it," he growled.

Sighing, Padme put her palms up in peace. She could see his point, and the skill to be open-minded was a needed profession to be a senator.

"Alright, I get your point. I'm sorry. It's just when Jiro gave me the idea and helped me get ready, I was so excited. I thought you'd be proud of me," she said. Anakin seemed surprised by this answer. "Proud of you? Why?" He asked, with genuine curiosity.

"Because I got a _job,"_ Padme pointed out, tightly. What part of this was confusing? She had gotten-earned-the first job of her life. She had gotten a job! "You've had one for years," Anakin pointed out confusedly.

Padme sighed and turned back to her mirror. "Whatever," she scoffed. Force, _men_. What was wrong with the lot of them? Did they all suffer from such insensitivity? Or was it just Anakin?

"Anyway, it will help with our income. We're low on bills," she reminded him. "I know," Anakin agreed tiredly. "But you're changing the subject. The twins. Daycare. Your job. I'm not sure I like it," he said. "Why in the blazes not?" Padme demanded, flabbergasted, and frankly fatigued of this conversation.

"Because…Because…" Anakin stammered, apparently at a loss now that he had said what he was thinking. It seemed to Padme he had not yet focused on the origin of whatever bad feeling he was having, so it must not have been overly important to him. he just expected her to go along with what he said. Why, she had no clue, but best to squash all domineering dreams now.

"Because you want me to stay at home and be a good little housewife?" Padme inquired acidly. Anakin looked into her eyes for a long time silently, his own pupils smoldering. Padme raised her chin. Anakin squared his shoulders.

They stayed silent another moment, both daring the other to speak first and condemn them both to this infernal fight. "I'm keeping my job," Padme growled. Anakin narrowed his eyes. "I suppose my opinion does not matter in this?" He demanded. "No, it doesn't. This is _my _life, Anakin, and my decision," she said. Anakin let out a grunt of exasperation.

"There you're wrong, Senator. It's not only your life anymore. You forfeited _your_ life when you took those vows with me. Now, it is _our_ life. Our family, our home, our reality. Not just yours," he said. Padme blinked, taken aback. Theirs? So, nothing was hers anymore, her life, her home, her decisions? This thing called marriage bound her every move to Anakin's? _Not likely_!

"I refuse to be tied to your hip and obeisant to your every decree!" She gasped, indignant. She knew Anakin did not believe in the old-fashioned ways of woman dependence, so what was he saying?

When had things gotten so muddled between them?

"I'm not saying you have to be, I'm only saying you don't just go out and do whatever you want! Is this even about the twins? Or is it about you?" Anakin snapped back. Padme twirled around. "Are you suggesting that I'm not thinking about the twins? About our family?" She barked, fury building within some deep well in her heart.

"It sure doesn't feel like it! It seems to me you only care about yourself and what _you _want and what _you_ need!" Okay, that made her mad. No, that _infuriated_ her, because Padme Amidala, of all things, knew that she was not selfish. She knew she loved her children more than the universe itself. She would die for those twins, and for Anakin, and their family.

Who was he to think otherwise?

"Is that so? What about you, then? Huh?" She stood, facing Anakin with smoldering rage that was building with a pressure that was near to popping. "If you're so selfless and dedicated to what the Twins want, why are you still a Jedi?" That hit something that was deep; Padme saw it in the way his face slackened, only for a moment, but slack all the same. The way his eyes dimmed with long conflicts that were personal and internal, but still present.

"You know why," he growled back. "I know that _you_ want to be a Jedi. For what, though? Since you care for what the twins want so much. Don't you know how many times they have run into my room when you're gone, crying because they had a dream about you dying? And we'd huddle all alone in the bed because we're afraid it's a premonition? Don't you know how horrible it is to laugh at something the Twins do and then realize you aren't there to see it? You're never there to see it, and all because of the Jedi, whose ideals you say you don't fight for," she shouted, fists balling at the memory of those things. Force, she had awoken gasping for so many nights, crying, because she had dreamt he were dead.

She had feared it so many times. Didn't he feel the same hurt she did whenever he left, unknowing of when or even if he would ever return? Didn't he realize how much the Twins suffered, seeing the droids walking through the streets and seeing the blasters shine in the sun?

The twins suffered.

She suffered.

The _family_ suffered, and they suffered so that Anakin could do what he loved. Couldn't he see that? Couldn't he let her do what_ she_ loved, now?

"Damn you, Anakin, don't you realize how much we give up so you can be a Jedi? How many sleepless nights we go through? How helpless we are here? If you want to do what's best for the twins so bad, leave the Jedi!" She screamed, as tears blurred her vision.

She loved him; she loved him so desperately much and he could _die_. He could leave her, and he acted as if it did not matter. The fear these thoughts struck in her heart did not matter to him.

"You know why I can't do that," Anakin snapped back, desperate fury shining in his eyes. "They _need_ me!" he cried. Padme stomped her foot, willing him to _hear_ her plea, the plea she had silenced so many nights before but refused to be pushed down now that it had already been teased with a taste of freedom.

"_We_ need you! Aren't we more important?" She demanded. Anakin's fists balled. "I won't abandon the people who saved me from slavery! I'm their _Chosen One_, Padme. They kriffing need me," that again, that stupid, million year old, Jedi force-forsaken prophecy.

"Do the Jedi need you, or do _you_ need the Jedi?"She retorted hotly. "To feel important, to feel like some hot-shot and hero. Won't you give that up so that we won't have to fear for you so much?" She asked. Anakin opened his mouth, closed it again, and opened it a third time only to close it.

Padme crossed her arms, trembling with righteous fury, desperate pleading and teary dignity. "That isn't about me. You want a job so you'll feel all-important," he growled. "I stay with the Jedi because they feel like I'm the only one who can save them. There's a difference," he exhaled.

Padme snorted. "Seems to me you've fooled yourself into thinking that. The Jedi will live whether you're there or not. They always have. And what do you care? You fight for their cause, not the Jedi Order. You hate the Jedi Order and their stupid rules," she pointed out.

"Force blast it all, Padme, how could you even say that? I hate the stupid rules, not the Jedi, and you know what else I hate? I _hate_ this stupid argument! This is not about YOU!" Anakin screamed, and this time his sentence was powered by the thud that came from his fist suddenly hammering the wall at his side. Padme glanced over, and saw a dent in the metal he had punched. He had dented the wall, wonderful.

_ What if that had been you_? Padme was shocked at her own thought, which had come from deep bowel of doubt in her mind. Shocked, she only stared at the man before her speechlessly, as his vision warped before her into something that Padme did not know.

For the first time since she had met Anakin Skywalker, when he was no more than a nine-year-old child, she felt some fear stir in her at the sight of him. He had always just been Ani to her, her husband, the passionate, loving, bold man that he was, but now she saw what others saw.

A Jedi. A war general, a man who could kill her with a mere clench of the fist. A Jedi who even other Jedi feared because of his power. For, also, the first time, that power frightened her. He was not just her Ani, he was something-someone-else, too, someone she did not know.

The depth of her fear scared her, and Padme took a hesitant step back. "No, it isn't about me. But it isn't about you, either," she managed to gasp out, staring into enraged cobalt eyes that glowed with deadly strength. "Nor is this about my job, the daycare, the Jedi or the twins," confusion sparked between the bellowing brows.

Padme shook her head again and turned away, unable to bear the thought of fearing this man-who she loved so greatly -at all. "It's about you, and the person I fear you're becoming," she managed to gulp.

"And who is that?" Anakin bit back, with extreme sardonic mocking. Padme closed her eyes. "A monster," she whispered, and her voice wavered. He was so _good_, too wonderfully, perfectly _beautiful_ to be a monster. But he was. Inside, in a place she had never seen fit to see, he was, all Jedi had to be.

They-_he_-was fighting it, but how long until that fight was lost or deserted?

Her answer, nevertheless, shocked Anakin into a stunned silence. She felt his eyes digging into the back of her head silently, and she hugged herself to keep back the tears. She hadn't wanted this to happen. What _had_ even happened? What was happening to them? To the future they once dreamed they could have together, in peace and happiness?

"Maybe I'm not the monster," Anakin whispered, and he sounded as broken and torn as she felt. "Maybe I'm just the Jedi, they're not all that different," he replied, quietly. Padme's fists balled. Nava wasn't a monster. Ahsoka and Obi-wan and Intrepid weren't monsters. Yoda wasn't a monster. What made Anakin so different?

"Get out," she growled between clenched teeth. "Do you hear me? Get _out_!" She did not remember having ever picked it up, but suddenly she was flinging a brush at him and the door and at everything. She gasped lightly as it left her hand, but she needed not have felt any fear at all, for Anakin was gone.

And she was alone.


	23. Dawn and dusk

_**Three days later:**_

~Nava's POV~

_ Most padawans met their future masters in the dojo, in their classes, or in the archives. Those three places were the most common. And in all truth, when the time came for a Padawan to be picked, they usually went out of their way to be in just those places. _

_ Nava was different. She did not intend to seek out a master with such fervor. Not that she didn't want to get chosen, but for force sakes, did they have to toddle under every bachelor knight's feet like small chicks waiting for its mother's attention? And a good majority of them were talking up her archives. _

_ So, that was why she was here, with the younger kids and Obi-wan, who at least made sense. Nava sighed and moved her micro braids out of her face as she smiled down from the tree she was perched in. Obi-wan was below, narrating some great and heroic story from one of the books he had read with Tahl to the younger kids. He was such a show-off. _

_ Since the both of them were newly fourteen year olds, and were thus restricted_ from _some books in the archives, Nava was relatively sure that Obi-wan had gotten __**this **__particular story without master Jocasta knowing. Oh, well, he was Obi-wan, and had special rights to do such odd things. _

_ "That isn't how the story goes, Kenobi!" A voice suddenly called out. Nava smiled at Siri, sitting next to her with a displeased expression. "Yah, you have it all wrong, Obi," Garen, in the branch above her stated. "He always makes things up," Quin-lan, next to Garen added. _

_ Bant, who by no means would ever speak a wrong word against Obi-wan, glared at them all. Nava chuckled and crossed her arms. At least her friends had agreed to come with her to the rainforest room. It was one of Nava's favorite rooms in the entire temple. _

_ Tall, narrow trees adorned with small ants, moss, fungi and rich, colorful plants and leaves (some carnivorous) only added to the humid air and warm mist that sometimes showered down from the air. In the distance, the sounds of birds chirping, insects buzzing and small, harmless and altogether friendly monkey's could be made out with pleasure. _

_ How wonderful is life, Yoda would have said, with fondness. The smaller children looked up at their adored storyteller with wide eyes, shocked at his fibbing. Obi-wan went beet red. "I am not!" he defended. "This is the….__**Alternate**__ version, yep, that's it," he explained to the younger. "It's the Obi-wan-likes-to-embellish-things-with-his-own-lit tle-insane-spin version, I'd say," Siri scoffed, causing the boys ahead to titter. _

_ Obi-wan rolled his eyes. "Whatever helps you go to sleep at night, Siri. And Garen, you haven't even read this story," he eyed the third member with mock disdain. "Quin-lan, do you even know__** how**__ to read?" he inquired. This statement was met by a deluge of giggles from those younger, below him. Obi-wan grinned from the rock he was standing on and bowed. _

_ Siri harrumphed, Garen shrugged nonchalantly and Quin-lan rolled his eyes. Bant clapped with the children, delighted with her friend for his comebacks. Nava chuckled softly and shook her head. "Instead of fairytales, Obi-wan, why don't you tell them some real stories?" she called down. Obi-wan looked up, surprised she had said anything. _

_ "This is a real story," he pointed out. "I mean one that has actually happened," Nava added. Obi-wan's brows creased. "This has actually happened!" He defended. "Sure," Quin-lan snorted._

_ "A Jedi master really got captured by a load of people dressed as Gundarks on some weird planet that doesn't even exist? I don't think so," he said. "Maybe it does exist," Obi-wan put his hands on his hips, glowering. "It doesn't," Siri, Garen, and Bant told him logically in unison. Obi-wan sighed. _

_ "Fine. Maybe this story never happened, and maybe I did add a few parts that weren't in there before, and maybe Earth doesn't actually exist, but at least I'm doing something besides sitting there in the trees like spoiled monkey's," he pointed out, grumpily. _

_ "Not much more," Garen laughed. "I've got an idea," Nava offered. "We could stage a play!"She said. "A play?" One of the younglings piped in curiously. "What's a play?" She asked, large eyes sparking with wanted knowledge. _

_ "A play is a dramatic composition or performance usually acted out by several people to illustrate a story or chronicle," Obi-wan answered automatically, sounding for all the force like an electronic tour guide. _

_ The younglings stared with wide eyes, as if he had just spouted out blasphemy. Obi-wan stared back, wondering what he had said. Nava sighed. "Does anyone else think he just spoke another language?" Quin-lan asked, confusedly. _

_ "He talks funny!" Came the giggled out response from those younger. "What did I say?" Obi-wan asked, blushing as the laughter spread. Nava smiled and hopped down from the tree. "I'll show you what a play is," she said, amending that a play was something you couldn't necessarily explain to younglings. _

_ She looked at her friends. "What should we play out?" She wondered. "The battle of Novara!" Garen shouted, before anyone could think on this. The younglings gasped at the familiar name, eyes wide. _

_ Nava frowned, looking to Obi-wan, who seemed thoughtful. "That was the battle that destroyed the Sith forever," he contemplated. "Should we really act it out? I mean, isn't that a tad disrespectful?" He wondered. _

_ "I'm sure our dead ancestors won't mind," Siri chirped, not at all worried with disrespecting ones elders. She climbed down from her perch in the tree excitedly._ _"Let's do it! I want to be General Mac Rabre!" She shouted. "I get to be Darth Plagueis!" Quin-lan piped in. _

_ "Who wants to join my Sith army?" He bellowed. No hands went up. Garen laughed boisterously as he slipped down next to his friend. "Someone needs to be the Sith. We'll take turns," he offered. "Quin-lan gets to be Sith only if I get to be Master Theon," Obi-wan argued. _

_ "Why do you get to be the hero?" Bant demanded. "Because," Obi-wan explained patiently. "You're too gentle, Bant, you would have surrendered before anyone even got a chance to fight. Not that it's a bad thing!" he raised his hands as she glared daggering death at him._

_ "But since the Jedi didn't actually surrender, we don't want to mess the play up __**that **__bad. Siri is too violent, she'd more than likely forget its only a game and bash Quin-lan over the head repeatedly and kill him," Siri said nothing to affirm or deny this, though her smirk said it all._

_ "Garen is too competitive, he'd lead the others against the Sith until you all died or beat each other black and blue. And don't you pout, Garen, you know you can't stand to lose. And Nava is too…." He glanced at her and edged a tad bit farther away. _

_ "Clever. The fight went on for two weeks without break, and I really don't favor the idea of Nava somehow creating a sandpit to trap her enemies in, and thereby winning the fight within seconds," he pointed out. _

_ Quin-lan, still staring nervously at Siri, who was grinning menacingly, rubbed his throat. "I agree with Obi this time. If my choices are get beaten by Siri, drowned in sand by Nava, get my army incinerated by Garen, or not be able to fight at all with Bant, I vote Obi-wan," he called. _

_ "Who knows what Obi-wan will do to you?" Garen laughed. Quin-lan glared at Obi-wan, who shrugged. "You're going to fail regardless, Quin-lan, remember? The Sith lost, thankfully. But I promise not to kill you or your army, or make this boring," he said. _

_ Reassured, Quin-lan rubbed his palms together. "Good! Now, what are you going to do, Nava?" He asked. "I'm going to be the director," Nava told him, proudly. "You'll be good at that, yes," Siri snorted. "Yelling at everyone when to go and when to cut and why isn't anyone stabbing that hard, what are we, ninnies? And where in the kriff is your caf? And if someone doesn't kill someone soon you'll kill us all yourself, and why is Garen talking so much, why is Obi-wan winning so easily and why hasn't anyone gone to get your kriffing caf yet?" Siri teased. _

_ The younglings burst into laughter. Garen and Quin-lan snorted with mirth and Obi-wan looked away to hide his laughter. Nava crossed her arms as Bant giggled next to her. "I do not sound like that!" She defended._

_ "Yes, you do," Obi-wan tittered. "But nevertheless, everyone get into your scenes. This half will be my army, and that half Quin-lan's. By the way, Garen, what are you going to do?" he asked. Garen grinned. "I'll be Chancellor Amebic," he said. _

_ "Oh," Obi-wan grinned. "If those Jedi don't win, then down with the Republic, we're doomed!" They yelled in unison, the famous words of one of the Republic's first Chancellors. Nava giggled and shook her head. How great was history? "Okay, everyone, action!" She shouted. _

"You seem rather preoccupied. May I know what has caught your eye?" Nava was burst out of her daydream by Osiris Aethra, who stood above her, smiling. "Oh, oh nothing darling. Just…remembering," she said, softly, saddened by a time that was the past, and the past was something Jedi were not supposed to dwell upon. Her husband stood there a moment, and she could feel him studying her contemplatively.

"Mr. Aethra, you have three press appointments tomorrow morning on the new building. And a meeting with the new employees, you're a genius for thinking it up, sir. Imagine, hiring the people you could have just stolen from, unimaginable! And then Mr. Alwari has been visiting, insisting on seeing you about something or another. Then, there's…"

Though Nava was facing away, she imagined Obi-wan waving his hand dismissively, interrupting the man whose sole purpose in life was to tell Obi-wan how many meetings he had for that day.

"Yes, yes, very good, my friend. A favor, if you will. Might you give us a moment of privacy please?" he raised his voice. "_All_ of you?" he called to the gossiping maids' in the background.

With groans of amusing disappointment, the maids' filed out, with the meeting announcer huffily on their heels, his pride wounded. Nava heard the door slide closed and Obi-wan came closer, standing so closely behind her that she could feel the heat from his body. He put both hands on her shoulders, staring out the window blindly.

"Tell me what it looks like," Obi-wan whispered, though the door was closed and locked. Nava put a hand on his hand and sighed. "It's the west garden. The weather is well today, not a cloud in sight, and the sun isn't scalding, either. Some glow flies have already started coming, they favor our garden alone, I hear," he chuckled softly and squeezed her shoulder.

"Tell me more," he urged. Nava studied the gardens below them. "The gardener has done an excellent job. There are orange blossom trees lining the pathway, in full bloom. And the grass is cut, clean and green. I see a couple birds, all brown, though beautiful. And some of the hedges are cut into shapes. All the Empire insignia," He grunted with disapproval.

"The sun has cast the sky into brilliant colors, meaning yellow and gold. A nice gold though, not at all like Dooku's eyes," she whispered. Obi-wan nodded. "It sounds beautiful," he said.

Nava nodded, and felt tears sting at her eyes. "It is. And they'll never get to see it again, Obi-wan," she choked. He remained silent a moment before shifting. Silently, he sat next to her on the window seat, holding her hands in his lap.

"You were remembering our friends," he stated. Nava nodded and looked out the window, the instinctive response to hide her tears, though Obi-wan could not physically see them, was strong. "We are the last two of our little group. Garen, Quin-lan, sweet Bant, and Siri. Dead. They won't ever see this beauty," she said.

Obi-wan nodded. "Or this war," he added. "Or this beauty," Nava insisted. She swiped a hand across her face, angrily. "When I think of them, Obi, I have to think of _us_. I have to think of how we're betraying the Jedi and the Order and the Code by doing this. Would they be proud? They should be, though most never felt this love," she squeezed his hand. Siri had felt love.

"And when I think of how they died thinking they were unloved, cared for, but unloved, and never have loved. And they died in a battle, a stupid war that should never have come about, I hate the Jedi, and I hate the Code," she scoffed. "You should hate the rules, not the Jedi," Obi-wan told her softly.

Nava shook her head, still not meeting his eye. "It makes no sense to hate the rule, instead of the people who made the rule. Rules must be set in place. Don't you ever hate them, Obi? Don't you just _hate_ the Order we're apart of sometimes?" She demanded. She could not be the only one who felt this pain, this anger and sorrow. She could not be.

Obi-wan was silent a long moment, and when he spoke, it was with the same calm voice he always used. "Hate is difficult for me. I've been hated too much to hate anyone else. Never the Jedi, though. Despite what we're doing, I can't even hate the Code. If you will remember, my parents did not want me; they thought I was a mistake, a monster. And I spent the first three years of my life thinking the same. I knew no love, nor care, no belonging before the Jedi. Tahl was my first-and really-my only mother. Qui-gon was the only person I would ever call my father. And it was the Jedi-the life the Jedi had told us we must live-that killed them. And yet," he smiled gently.

"I can't hate them, because they _saved_ me. And I can't mourn the loss of the people I've loved too much because…Because force, Nava, I have so much more to be thankful for," he breathed. Nava stared at him incredulously.

He had been tortured two times, injured, lost both parents, a wife and child, most of his friends and been poisoned, tricked, abandoned, and been made blind by the life he lived with Jedi, and he had things to be _grateful_ for? Like what?

Obi-wan seemed to read her mind. He chuckled softly and squeezed her hands. "For one, I'm still _alive_, that's a bonus. Additionally, if I were not a Jedi, what would I be? Some half-baked, decrepit, insecure old man? If they had not saved me, _where_ would I be? If Bruck had never gotten me sent away, I would never have met Qui-gon. If Qui-gon hadn't died, I would never have trained Anakin. If Siri had not died, I wouldn't have _you_. Force, Nava, all it took was losing one thing to gain something _greater_. I traded a father for a brother, a lover for a wife, friends for this life. And what else matters?" he asked.

Nava stared at his eyes, cool blue through the contacts, but underneath blind, and she felt tears sting at her eyes. Despite all, this man could find something to be _thankful _for.

And he was right, if things hadn't happened the way they had, if the Jedi were not the way they were, what and who would she have been instead of who she was now? Some person she did not want to be. Because she loved her life, and herself, and this man and her family.

She loved all of it, and hatred had no place in a heart that also held love. No place at all.

Leaning forward, Nava laid her head in Obi-wan's lap and kissed the hands holding hers. "You're an amazing man, Obi-wan," she whispered against his knuckles, lovingly. She loved Obi-wan, and if she had not become a Jedi, would she ever have met him? She felt a deep and sincere fear in her heart at the thought of never having met him.

Obi-wan laughed and smoothed a hit of her hair down. "Amazing? No, I've made my share of mistakes, just like everyone else. I've killed and murdered without heart. I've been responsible for trickery and evilness and death. Just like every other person in this universe. I have merely learned from my mistakes, but other than that, How are we any different, I and everyone else?" he asked. Nava shook her head. "I love you," she said.

Obi-wan put a hand under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his, unseeing as they may have been. "Not so much as I love you," he said back. "And though Siri took a piece of my soul when she died, you filled that hole with your devotion, and I am thankful for that, as well," he told her. Nava's lip puckered. She wrapped her arms around him.

"I don't hate the Jedi," she said tearfully, the sorrow having been replaced by sparkling joy. She had so much to be thankful for too. And it was all because of the life she lived as a Jedi. How could you hate something that had given you all you had, as little as you _did_ have?

"Nor their Code or rules. Everything works for the good of the end, even their stubborn traditions," she assented. Obi-wan nodded, and they clung to each other with all the strength they had.

In the distance, the setting sun left them with the small pinpoints of light from the stars, signifying the millions of things they had to be thankful for in the engulfing blackness of their lives.

Sometimes dusk brought better surprises than even dawn.

* * *

~Lux's POV~

_ "The universe doesn't owe you anything, not a thing, but you owe the universe everything, everything you have," _Who was it that had said that, Lux could not, for the life of him, remember. Granted, it did not exactly matter that much who had said it. What really mattered was that he was part of secret organization started by Darth Sidious to weed out potential Jedi hunters. And Lux was being bumped up in the line.

He groaned, a sixth time, and sat up; also for the sixth time, to rub his face tiredly. He couldn't sleep. His eyes even refused to close without his brain seeming fit to torment him with the images of what he could do if he did nothing now.

Yet, he was torn.

Here, at this academy, it had seemed that the Rebel Alliance and the Jedi Order, the strife for democracy, and the war for peace did not exist, and he had liked it. Now that they had once again showed up, he found he resented them for interrupting on a dream that could not be his if he tried.

For the first time in his life, Lux had just been normal. And they had ruined it.

He sighed and put his head in his hands. He had been granted, along with his high rank, a room of his own. He was alone with his fears and doubts. _What can I do? I can't just keep letting Sidious create Jedi killers_, Lux thought.

_ I can't become one, but what else can I do? He's the Emperor, what he says goes._ And this time, it wasn't just a battle on the field, where clones raced behind you and Jedi flashed their sabers beside you, no, the enemy was much more discreet.

Blast, this wasn't his expertise.

_ And to think,_ he mused darkly. _I once wanted to be a senator._ Blasters and battlefields were so much easier. There, then, you knew who your enemy was and what you had to do to stop him was relatively simple. Just shoot down more droids than they shot down clones. There. Winner.

But this…This was kriffing Obi-wan's job.

And now his job, as well. Lux ran a hand through his hair and unconsciously reached over, tracing a scar that ran down the length of his belly. How easy it would be to just sit back and do nothing; to remain in this bubble of normality that was so foreign and sweet to his weary ears. It wasn't right, but force, neither was somehow, someway, shutting down the entire branch of a police system.

Then what would the people of the underground-the people he had come to help-do about the crime, which was off the charts anyway? _Who is more important?_ He wondered. _The rebels; or the people for whom the rebels fight?_ And there was the big question. The big question, which had no real answer.

It was, as Obi-wan would have said, all a point of view.

Stupid opinions. Lux hated it all. Why couldn't things be simple? The life of a simple citizen was luxurious in its own ways, without the soft linens of wealth or the quiet solace of spiritual enlightenment. The simple citizen did not have to make life or death decisions not for only themselves every day, but for thousands of other people.

Regular citizens were not placed at the mercy of all-powerful beings every day, to fight or die in the same horrible, war-glory as every other expendable being on that battlefield. They did not have to save everyone. Lux did, it was, admittedly, what he had chosen, but now that he had tasted the grasses of a different life, he was not all that sure he had chosen correctly.

_Who am I? Who is my real family? What __**is**__ my destiny?_ He asked himself, and leaned back, pondering. He had never asked what his destiny might be. Anakin and the Twins were the destiny-pondering ones. The others had a set providence; they had been born Jedi, lived as Jedi, and would die with all of the honor deserving of a Jedi.

All Jedi deserved that honor, because even though Lux was not sure if he belonged with them, the Jedi were incredible people. Not Gods, or inhuman heroes, but _people_. He was just the force-less ex-Separatist who tagged along sometimes. And in truth, here, he was also something more.

Here, he was Sergeant Lamar Rai. Sergeant, not just plain Lux. The clones called him plain Lux, not even a _General _for him. _Oh, but this isn't the point!_ He scolded himself, clenching his jaw. "What in the kriff am I going to do?" If it was found out he was trying to sabotage the institution Sidious had set up, he'd be arrested as a traitor.

If he did nothing, then how many people would be recruited as Jedi killers? Would it be in his lifetime? Would _he _be forced to kill Jedi, and rebels? Over his dead body. But the city of the underground needed guards to help control the crime! So what in the blazes could he do? What should he do?

Lux groaned in frustration and slammed a fist on his bed. "Blast it all! Peace in the end? Peace died during the Clone War!" he ground out. _Wait, the Clone War…_

Struck by the feeling that he knew exactly what to do, Lux sat up, and wracked his brain for the quick tickle of suggestive idea that had popped into his reach and then shimmied away. The Clone War, the Clone War, it had something to do with the blasted Clone War….

Lux huffed and set his chin on a fist, recounting every story Ahsoka and Intrepid had told him about her time during the War. "_We trained a whole village to defend themselves, so that we wouldn't be forced to leave them to be incinerated, but still not stay to protect them all…"_

That was it!

Training. He was a sergeant wasn't he? He would be the one training a few of his comrades now. What if he trained them against the Empire, against Palpatine. What if he made them his soldiers, instead of Damara's? Win their trust, which he already had some of anyway.

Then, when the time came that Damara called on them to hunt Jedi, they would stand together against him. The Rebellion would gain support, Sidious's plan would be ruined (this thought made Lux grin) and the underground would not lose its crime fighters. _All good things to those who wait. I'm a genius,_ Lux decided, chuckling softly.

Careful not to let his laughter be heard, he slipped back underneath his covers and planned for the next day with more enthusiasm than ever before. Most times dawn brought better expectations than dusk.


	24. Torah's ghost

_**Two days later:**_

~Anakin's POV~

_ "Wheeeep!"_ Artoo squeaked in indignation as Anakin paced past him into the shop, somewhere during early dawn. The force of Anakin's stride nearly collapsed the small droid, though Anakin hardly noticed. He and Padme had gotten into _another _fight the night before, and Obi-wan warning about shielding his internal organs?

Damn the man, he had been right.

Who knew that lamps could be thrown with such power by such small arms? And who knew that the tops of lamps were_ sharp_? Or, at least, it had felt sharp when she flung it at him. Anakin had barely evaded using the force to catch it, and in his struggle to do just that, he had let the lamp slip past his grip and hit him right between the legs.

It still hurt, and grumbling, he eased himself into his desk chair, filing through the stacks of papers he had left the day before. All receipts and licenses and fake I.D's and nonsense, nonsense, nonsense, just like his _boshooda_ life. When had things become so muddled? He and Padme used to be one in everything, from mindsets to temperament.

Now they couldn't even agree past anything but the color of the kriffing sky, and Anakin was sure that if he were to bring it up, they would find conflicting views on that, too.

She was driving him mad, and in truth, the times he spent away from the house, away from her burning brown eyes and displeased set lips was a reprieve. Once upon a time, he had lay awake in bed groaning for longing of Padme. Now he groaned in longing to get out of the house back to his shop.

Where was Shantra when he needed her?

_ Where is anyone when I need them? This planet is a curse,_ Anakin thought, slamming the papers down. He had not read a single word of what the things had said. Feeling a deep unsettling anger rise within him, he stood and rushed over to his machine to start making some caf.

He would need it for the night ahead. Doubtless, they would find something else to argue over. _"How dare she call me a monster?"_ he wondered as he set his cup inside the machine.

A second later, the cup was reproduced with steaming caf inside of it. Sprinkling packets of sugar into the nearly black liquid, he walked into the back of the shop, where Artoo waited expectantly next to a small speeder.

_ Doesn't she know how deeply I worry about that? How much that hurt me? _More than likely that was why she had said it. Arrogant politician.

Anakin put the cup down and knelt next to his newest prize. _"Everything seems so simple when you're fixing things,"_ he had once said that to her, after his mother died. Per usual, his stomach clenched when he thought of his mother.

He missed her every second of every day.

Angrier still, what with the familiar rush of remembered grief and impulsive sadness overwhelming him, he snatched a small servo driver and dove underneath the speeder, grumbling to himself softly. Seconds later, he was engulfed in the wonderful and soothing world of mechanics, where all life consisted of was switching around a few wires or tweaking a couple pipes or changing liquid. It wasn't so hard if you knew the tricks.

Life, though, especially _his_ life, you could never learn the tricks, not even one, because every day required a new trick. It wasn't a repetitive cycle. Suddenly, Artoo, breaking him out of his thoughts, let out a joyful squeal. Anakin knew who it was at once by the hidden force signature. Fury flared within him; couldn't he have just been left alone with his machines for an hour? Two? Was it too much to ask to just be left _alone_? He didn't ask it much.

He came out from under his speeder, and his frown turned into a grimacing snarl when he noticed Obi-wan leaning against his doorway, arms crossed and eyes searching the general vicinity to Anakin's left. Anakin's guess was that he had not said anything yet because he was not sure if Anakin were there or not.

_ Maybe I should just leave him standing there_, he thought maliciously. The thought faded as quickly as it had come though, he would never be able to immerse himself in his work with Obi-wan standing there like a phantom and staring blindly into space like a mad man.

"Oh, would you look at that? The great Aethra has finally deigned me worthy of seeing his pompous presence," he snapped irritably. Obi-wan's eyebrows shot up; surprised at his tone and the jest, which was not spoken with the regular teasing. "Well, you're in a good mood," he observed, and his voice was uncharacteristically soft.

His calm made Anakin bristle. He was really in no mood for Obi-wan's sarcasm. "What do you want? I thought you feared the gossip scandal you'd have to deal with if you came down here to visit all us pheasants," he growled, sitting up and glaring, wishing that Obi-wan could at least see his face so he could get the hint and _leave_.

"A very good mood," Obi-wan finished. He cocked his head, still leaning against the doorway. "You and Padme still fighting?" he asked, with a bit of sympathy. Anakin did not want his pity. With a sigh, he stood and grabbed a rag, using it to wipe his hands free of engine grease.

"Why should you care? You and Nava are perfectly fine living in your kriffing mansion, catered to by your stupid servants. I refuse to be a part of the sob story where you come visit your son every eighth fortnight because all your rich friends are busy and you feel like you need to be there or he'll go homeless. I'm_ not_ your son, and you're_ not_ my father and I don't _need_ you to come bother me whenever you have nothing better to do," he snapped, pushing past Obi-wan to dump out his minutes old caf and get another cup.

"Anakin," he heard Obi-wan whisper as he pushed past, some in shock and more in hurt. "Shut up, Obi-wan," Anakin responded, angry at himself now. He really shouldn't be taking his anger out on Obi-wan. And force knew he had not spoken to his master this way since he was a teenager. And even then he had been smart enough to say it in a slightly less rude tone.

Sighing, his pushed his cup into the caf machine again and leaned against the counter, avoiding looking back at his still taken aback friend. It wasn't normal for him to say something that shocked Obi-wan, usually the Jedi Master knew what he was going to say before he said it.

The fact that his words had been so harsh immediately made him feel guilty. None of this was Obi-wan's fault, and Anakin knew that their secret identities prevented Obi-wan from coming to see them all the time. He shouldn't have snapped at him. Abandoning his cup, he walked over and put a hand on Obi-wan's shoulder.

"Master, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean that…Obi-wan," he said, frowning as he realized the body under his hand was quaking so violently Anakin's entire arm shook with it. "You're trembling, master. Obi-wan," worried, and his anger forgotten, he rushed around to face Obi-wan, and taking the familiar face in his hands, peered at Obi-wan anxiously.

"Obi-wan, what is it? What's wrong? You're pale as a sheet. Force, master, come sit down," grabbing his arm, he steered Obi-wan over to a box and bade him sit down. "Anakin," Obi-wan murmured, sounding either very sick or very far away. Anakin felt his head, which was slightly too warm.

"I didn't ever mean to…" Anakin quieted him by squeezing his hand. "I know, master. You know I didn't mean it. Padme has me frazzled, so I'm in a bad mood and being a jerk. I'm sorry I took it out on you. Now tell me what's wrong," he apologized. "Nothing," Obi-wan said quickly as Anakin knelt before him, peering into his face, still deathly pale.

"Don't lie to me. Your pulse is having a party, it's way too fast. Look at me, are you dizzy?" He demanded, concern starting to make his heart flutter. Obi-wan had had a heart attack once before, and thus was in danger of having one again. And Anakin knew that there would be no second chances.

"I'm _fine_, Anakin," Obi-wan hissed back, snatching his hand away. "You're obviously not fine," Anakin snapped back. "It doesn't matter," Obi-wan said, gripping the sides of the box with a grip that dented the metal. His brow was scrunched in either anger or anxiety.

Anakin decided to take the gentle approach. "It matters to me," he argued softly, standing. He walked around and massaged tight muscles in Obi-wan's shoulders.

"Why else would you come here for?" he wondered. Obi-wan opened his mouth, then closed it, either too tired or too frustrated to argue this point. Either way, it was bad. Obi-wan wasn't partial to missing up a chance to argue with him. Obi-wan sighed, and the muscles under his hands relaxed a bit. "I…I just needed to get away," he muttered.

Impatiently, Obi-wan grabbed Anakin's hands and lifted them off his shoulders. He stood and walked around to pat Artoo on the dome absently and pretend to study the speeder Anakin was working on. "From what?" Anakin asked, not moving from his spot, though he watched Obi-wan closely.

That answer took longer to come. "Do you recall that idea you gave me about hiring the people who would lose their jobs when I expanded the company?" Obi-wan asked; a bit _too_ calm for how fast his heart was still racing.

Anakin nodded; it seemed a lifetime ago, but he remembered. "Well, I did," Obi-wan picked up a small screwdriver, running his fingers over the crude design until he touched engine grease.

"_And?"_ Anakin continued, his worry growing. "And there's this young woman who possessed her own business there. Brilliant young lady; sharp-witted and polite. Tyrion told me I should have her as an office clerk, she is so good with numbers, and I did just that. She really is a sweet girl," he murmured, ruefully in Anakin's opinion.

"Where's the problem in this? Is she infatuated with you or something?" Anakin asked, thinking that Obi-wan couldn't possibly be this stressed out over a young girl having a crush on him, which was rather common. "Thank the force she is not," Obi-wan muttered, his hands were shaking so badly that he dropped the screwdriver, his hands black with grease.

"Then _what _is it, Obi-wan?" he sighed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. Stubborn old man, couldn't he just say it? "She's the same species as Torah was," oh. No, Anakin supposed he could not have just said it. His arms dropped to his sides and he stared at Obi-wan, understanding.

"I admit, seeing the familiar shape, it brought back memories. I've been able to fight them for this long, but…" He trailed off and shrugged, helplessly. "I just needed to get away," he finished.

"I should think so," Anakin agreed in a whisper. Now he really felt bad, Obi-wan had come here for relief and support, and what had Anakin done? Insulted the poor man. Some friend he was.

"There must have been something wrong with Torah," Obi-wan continued lightly. "Because Nava tells me the girl is quite beautiful. And she truly is a sweet creature, nothing at all like Torah," he said.

_ Well, of course there was something wrong with her. She was sick and twisted,_ Anakin thought; but did not say so out loud. "Have you told Nava about the memories?" He asked.

Obi-wan shook his head. "I couldn't bear to worry her, and we never speak of that time," he answered. Anakin nodded, Obi-wan still had not told him half of what had been done to him in that cell. It was not something Anakin asked about, and not something Obi-wan liked to go back too.

"It's only been a year, you know," he said softly. "It's normal for you to feel this way sometimes," he assured him. "I'm a Jedi," Obi-wan pointed out, with a scoff. "You're also human," Anakin added kindly. Obi-wan waved this fact away. His species did not concern him. In Obi-wan's world, the only species, religion, gender, family and name he had was Jedi.

"Why don't you give her a different job then, master? Then you won't have to be reminded," Anakin suggested. Obi-wan shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "She likes the job she has; she tells me that about every five minutes. And knowing her, the girl will think me moving her to a different job will imply she wasn't doing something correctly, and she's just too much of an amiable girl for me to do that to her, Anakin," he explained.

Anakin sighed; Obi-wan's compassion was going to be the death of him. "Then what are you going to do?" He asked. "Endure," Obi-wan, snorted, as if the answer were supposed to be obvious. "And by endure, you mean suffer, don't you?" Anakin wondered, sourly. "Most of the time, those words mean the same thing," Obi-wan answered mildly.

Anakin groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "You're impossible," he sighed. "I'm sorry," Obi-wan agreed apologetically. "I don't mean to harass you, I just needed somewhere to go," he said. Anakin nodded. "You're always welcome here, brother, you know that. And if you need to talk, I've just recently learned how to shut up and sit down," he offered. Obi-wan's mouth quirked up in a small smile. Anakin counted it as a minor victory.

"I'll be alright with time," he said. "Are you sure? Maybe…Maybe speaking of it will help," Anakin gulped. In truth, he wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to hear what Bruck and Torah, both dead now, had done to Obi-wan that month he had been in their clutches.

"Anakin, if _remembering_ it hurts this much, I'm relatively sure speaking of it will only escalate the pain," Obi-wan pointed out, without so much as a tremble to his voice, though Anakin still saw the shake of his body.

"Then give me the pain," he blurted. Obi-wan stared at him with astonishment. "Share the pain with me, master, and_ I'll_ let go of it for you," it was certainly possible, with the strong bond they had. Anakin could easily transfer the pain from Obi-wan to himself, and they would not need to use that much force power. They shouldn't get caught. "Anakin," Obi-wan face melted into tender appreciation. He came forward and put both hands on Anakin's shoulders.

"You don't know how grateful-how blasted _grateful_-I am that you would even think of that. But you know I won't do it. I can't let you feel this, and especially not to save me," he said. "But I could do it!" Anakin objected, grasping Obi-wan's shoulders.

"I know you would," came the grave response. "And that fidelity is part of the reason why I _won't_ do it. This pain…You don't know it, and I don't plan on ever letting you feel it. It would kill us both. Don't you worry about me," don't worry about Obi-wan? Right. _That _was funny.

"Someone ought to," he grumbled as Obi-wan walked back over to the speeder. "Someone not you. You have enough worries, and I have been tortured before. The memories will come and come, and eventually I'll get so used to them they'll cease to mean a thing," he was such a liar.

He was such a blasted good liar, but Anakin knew him. He knew that the memories would never fade into nothing. The pain would always sit there in Obi-wan's gut, torturing him, though he had escaped the cell. And it broke Anakin's heart that there was _nothing_ he could do, nothing but sit there and watch Obi-wan go through it.

"At least let me comfort you," he pleaded. "From what? It is over. Bruck and Torah are dead. I don't need comfort, nor solace. I killed them both myself. Now, come over here and tell me what Padme has done to put you into such a splendid mood," he ordered.

Anakin grinned, and instead of doing what Obi-wan had said, walked over to wrap his arms around Obi-wan's neck. "It doesn't matter. If you can go through torturous memories and not complain then I can endure my _wife_ and not complain either," he decided.

"I'd say the wife is much worse," Obi-wan laughed. Anakin chuckled with him. "True enough. But forget that. Come sit down and watch me work. We're going to talk about _happy_ memories, blast it. Everything will be fine if we just do that," he said, releasing his friend.

Obi-wan chuckled softly and shook his head. "There, my friend, you are a naïve fool. But I'll play along with you today. Better than hearing how many meetings I have to go too," he snorted. "You have meetings you're supposed to be at?" Anakin asked, surprised.

"They won't miss me," Obi-wan assured him. Anakin laughed and patted his shoulder. "You're the greatest, master. Did you make any new friends while you're here?" he asked.

Obi-wan nodded and followed him back over to the speeder. "Tyrion," he chirped. "Alwari?" Anakin gasped. Obi-wan nodded again. "He confuses me," he told Anakin, cheerfully. "Really? He must be magic," Anakin gasped.

Obi-wan was very hard to confuse. "Intelligent," Obi-wan corrected. "Same thing. Do you remember when we went to Ragoon 5 and you tried to drown me?" he requested. "I was teaching you how to _swim,_ Anakin," sure he was. And Dooku was trying to help him see his demons when he neatly tried to decapitate him. Sure. His whole intention soared on that one principle.

"By dumping me in the water?" he demanded. "Why not? You see you learned," Obi-wan pointed out, with a grin. Anakin laughed and shook his head. If Obi-wan could endure, then by the force, Anakin could too.


	25. Air Raid

~Ahsoka's POV~

When she woke up, it was not in a pleasant scene. In fact, it was one of the less pleasant scenes she had ever seen in her life, and that was saying something. The reason for this unpleasant propriety was that she could not see _anything_. magnificent.

This momentary problem was in fact that there was a blindfold around her eyes, a gag in her mouth and her body stung with newly admitted bruises and cuts.

She imagined her skin must be lined with them, and the swelling of her eyes and lips did not help either. Swishing her tongue around, she concluded that one tooth was broken and she was missing two more. _Splendid._

With a sigh, and frustrated because of her throbbing and foggy head, she tugged at her hands, which were bound with crude rope behind her. Her ankles; also were bound and tied to the chair she was sitting on. She could feel the heat of a light bulb above, burning into her flesh.

_ Well, my day is ruined,_ she thought bitterly, restrained. Where was her lightsabers? Were they still in her boots? A quick wiggling of her toes told her they were. Her boots had not been stripped, thankfully.

Ahsoka had heard tales where drug masters stripped their enemy's naked before interrogation, just to remind them of how vulnerable and weak they were. Ahsoka more than likely would have just spat into the drug man's face and hoped he liked the taste of her disgust.

This vision made her smile partially, despite her discomfort. She tugged at her bonds experimentally, debating whether she should escape now or wait a while.

Her aching body and throbbing skull voted patience. Stretching herself out on the chair, Ahsoka leaned her head back and waited.

**_Later:_**

Almost three hours later, she heard the sound of a door sliding open, and a large presence approached her. Ahsoka tensed; the plodding aches and numbness in her bound body a second priority.

The force around her hissed with danger as something that smelt eerily of male sweat and arousal came nearer, so close that she could feel the heat of his body standing over her.

"Who are you?" The man demanded in a grunt. Ahsoka was surprised by this straightforward approach. Silently, she debated what name she should give him. In the end, she picked the one she had been using for the past two months. "Air Raid. Who are you?" She countered gruffly.

The man in front of her laughed. "_Air raid_? Isn't that a bug spray?" he cackled. "You smell like you could be a bug spray, too," Ahsoka countered calmly. Without hesitation, a ringed fist bashed itself into her stomach.

Ahsoka doubled over as far as she could go, gasping and choking. Force, that had _hurt_. "Don't talk back to me, girl," he snapped. "I will beat you into three different species of pulp if you test me. You'll give me some respect, understood?" So, this person seemed to think fear was the same thing as respect, did he? That was rather handy.

"You answer my questions, and keep your mouth shut when I ain't asking one, and we'll get along good enough," he obviously had no clue who he was talking too. Ahsoka half wished that this mob boss was Cad Bane.

At least Bane had been polite and civilized. Cultured, though, did not seem like it was the main concern on his list. Her fingers twitched, desperate for her lightsaber.

_ Don't you blow your cover, Tano,_ she thought as she looked back up. "Good," he purred, taking her silence as agreement. "Now, tell me what you were doing in that club," Ahsoka quickly debated over an answer. "Looking for someone," she replied. "Who?" He barked. "Some person who kept scamming my boss," she settled for the truth. Mayhap it would do her some good.

"Really? And who's your boss?" He asked. "Bloodshot," Ahsoka answered, without any debate. She really couldn't care less what happened to the man. "Bloodshot? He sent you to what? Oust my girl?" Oh, so that was what this was all about. Hmm, it could be used to her advantage.

"Bring her back to him, actually. He wanted to teach her a '_lesson'_ for giving him fake money," she corrected mildly. "What?" The gangster growled. Ahsoka felt him lean in closer. "So, he tried to kidnap my girl for himself, huh?" male jealousy was always such a useful tool.

So easy to use, as well. She was suitably aware that this man did not care for the woman, so much as what the woman gave him, and added to this injustice and prejudice, he was merely angry that someone else had tried to damage what was rightfully _his_ property. Ahsoka wondered what Anakin would say if he were here.

Probably something along the lines of several different Huttese curses which she would do well not to say aloud for fear her captor might break something vital. After all, when she escaped, she would need all her strength to bash him into the wall, wouldn't she?

"Looks like it. don't get mad at me, pal," she shrugged lightly. "I'm only the messenger, and I wasn't going to hurt her. Until she set up the whole club against me," she clucked. "Shut up! I didn't ask for all that!" Was the expressive response, accompanied by a sharp slap across the face.

She sensed him pace across the room, glaring at her. She remained silent, smoldering on the inside. "My girl, my girl, _my_ girl," he murmured. "What am I going to do about this? He_ knew_ that was my girl. Now everyone will think it's okay to mess with _my_ stuff. You, girl, what else did he say?" Ahsoka would have rolled her eyes if she weren't still blindfolded. He was getting on her nerves. Both metaphorically and physically, her cramped muscles felt like a strung up rubber band.

"To find out who she's working for so he can oust that person later," she lied, fluently. "_What!"_ A bellow of outrage met her pleased ears. "Not only did he steal my girl, but he wanted _me_, too?" She took that as an allegorical question and did not answer. "We'll see who gets who! This guy is dead. But where am I going to catch him?" Ah, this was what she had been waiting for.

"I can get him," she offered amiably.

Without seeing, she knew he twirled around to face her. "What did you say?" He growled. "I can lure him into a trap, if you want. Tell me a place and time and I'll get him there for you, the loser has a crush on me anyway. If I offer to let him get me alone he'll follow me like a dog on a chain," she chuckled darkly, and wondered when she had gotten so well versed in gangster dialect. What she had just said was _certainly _not the Jedi Way.

"Really?" there a hint of fascination in his voice now. "And what's in it for you?" He asked. "I work for cheap," she promised, well aware that he knew she was lying. and without him to follow around, I'll need a new boss," she said.

She felt the spark of interest grow in the force, blossoming into a flame of thought now. "So, you'll work for me. How do I know you won't betray me like Bloodshot?" he asked. "You don't," she chirped cheerily.

That prompted a long silence. Finally, he said, "you good at your job?" That was a stupid question. "Don't you see all these bruises on me? You think it was easy to knock me out?" she scoffed. "Go check your cronies and see how many more bruises they have," she grunted. He had basically just insulted her fighting style, and She was _Ahsoka Tano_.

"I have Jedi reflexes," She bragged, thinking that technically she was not bragging but warning the poor man. "And you won't bankrupt me?" She smiled. "Opinions may vary," she sniggered. Another silence before the blindfold was ripped off her face. Ahsoka blinked rapidly in the sudden light and whipped her head away, allowing her eyes to adjust.

Couldn't he have warned her first?

"Welcome aboard, Air Raid."

_ Perfect. _


	26. Evil place

~Luke's POV~

Luke cringed as another crash resounded downstairs. "Why do you think you can control everything I do?" He heard his mother scream. "Why is it you feel like you can still do whatever you want? We have bills to pay and you're spending your money on clothes?" Father shouted back.

"Luke?" A soft voice asked from across the room. Luke turned around, and in the darkness, he felt Leia more than he saw her. He still wasn't sure why, but he always felt Leia, in his heart and head and just whenever she was around. He didn't _feel _right if she wasn't around.

He was sitting with his back to the door of their room. He and Leia had gotten the biggest since it had the window that showed the front street one.

Luke wished now they hadn't gotten that room, he could see people walking down on the street. Sometimes they would approach each other, and trade little baggies below his window and then walk off.

Something in his tummy hurt when they did that, and he remembered Soka saying that the force would warn him when there was danger. He really wished it wouldn't warn him like that.

Suddenly, he felt Leia next to him, even though the room was dark and he couldn't see her. She leaned against the door next to him, their bodies touching. He laid his head on her shoulder, taking comfort from his twin.

"What are they fighting about?" Leia whispered. "Bills again," Luke grumbled. He did not know what bills were, but their parents always liked to argue about them. Apparently, they were worried about how the bills kept going up and they couldn't pay them. Whatever that meant.

"Obi said bills were payments that the Emperor makes people pay so he can fund the war," Leia whispered, reading his mind. "I don't care," Luke snapped back. "I just want them to stop. Why do they throw things? It's not nice," he pointed out.

"And then they get mad at us for throwing things," Leia added in outrage. Luke sighed. He and Leia were different, so different. He felt sadness easily, but Leia was quicker to get angry.

Luke heard the sound of a glass shattering. He cringed and shook his head, feeling fear curl within him. What should he do? Leia whimpered. Luke squeezed her hand, wishing that he didn't have to feel this way. Were they fighting because of him, or Leia? What had he done wrong?

"I don't like this," Leia whispered angrily. "I don't like this place. I want to go home," she harrumphed. By that, Luke guessed she meant their old house on Biyalia.

"That house is gone," Luke reminded her. "So? We can live _outside_, with Soka and Rex and Trepid and Lux-Lux and Nava and…And Obi. Motha and fatha didn't fight when they were there. This place is _evil_," she hissed, and Luke felt tears spring to his eyes, but he knew they weren't from his eyes. He was feeling Leia's pain.

"Does the force talk to you?" he asked, swiping away his tears. Leia nodded. "What did it say when Motha's friend came in and gave her flowers?" he asked. Leia grunted her answer. Earlier that day, their mother's friend, Jiro, had come into the daycare and given her multi-colored flowers.

Luke had felt something…Weird when he had seen that. His mother had been delighted though, and had showed everyone like it was father who had brought the flowers.

"It said he was a kriffing sleemo," Leia replied, as was customary. This time, Luke agreed with her. Why didn't father feel it? Mother didn't have the force, but someone should have felt it.

Luke had been so scared he hadn't eaten the candy Jiro tried to give them; he didn't like the way he and his mother had spent half the day talking and laughing. He didn't_ like it._

"What do you want from me, Anakin?" His mother shouted tearfully. "I want that life we've always dreamed of, Padme! Don't you remember it? I thought it was _our _dream!" Said their father, and he sounded like he wanted to cry, too. Like he had hurt himself when he had hurt Luke's mother. "Don't cry," Luke whispered desperately.

"Let them cry," Leia snapped furiously, and Luke knew, without seeing, that she was talking to herself because she had already started crying.

"Let them cry, and yell, and throw things forever. I don't care," but she was lying, and both of them knew it though neither spoke a word. Luke bit his bottom lip as suddenly it went silent downstairs. Had they killed each other?

"Anakin, that dream was of _your_ fabrication, not mine!" then he heard footsteps running up the stairs and the room next to theirs slam its door. Down below, their father let out a roar of either anguish or rage, and a second later, something crashed against the wall so hard it shook the house. Leia whimpered again and gripped Luke tightly, her fear mingling with his own.

"This place is _evil,"_ they whispered in unison.


	27. Slave rebellion

**_A week later:_**

~Intrepid's POV~

"Then you loop this end through that and there you have it, you can sew," Cece explained, with a final flourish on the quilt they had been designing.

Intrepid ran her hands down the soft fabric and grinned, her fingers ached with the pain of it, but pride in herself out-shadowed that.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, taking in the stars and suns that adorned their creation. "It's shabby," Cece clucked disapprovingly, as normal. "But suitable. Do you think you can do it yourself now?" She asked.

Intrepid nodded; almost eager to start on her own. "Thy quilt shines like dawn's morn, girls," Dame stated, peering over their shoulders. Both girls jumped and whirled around to see En-lai and Dame standing behind them, baskets of more sewing material and seed packets for their garden in their arms.

"It looks like it was done by dawn's clumsy hands," Cece corrected him, glancing pointedly at Intrepid. Ignoring that gaze, Intrepid stood and started picking through the small baskets, looking for different colors. What design would she make?

"Where are the twins?" She inquired, the word sliding off her tongue with familiarity. She ignored the memories it evoked. She was no longer Intrepid here.

"Getting more seed packets. Where are we going to plant this garden again?" En-lai asked. Intrepid shrugged and looked about the small concrete room that was their gangs living place. "Not in here that's for sure. Where would Margo never think to look?" she looked at Dame, who shrugged.

He usually snooped around in the dark, though only Intrepid knew it. He met her eyes in understanding that she knew his secret. "The answer from the twins, thou will hath to get. I wot not," he told her. "Well, that's useful. How long will it take until the garden starts to grow?" Cece asked. "That depends upon the harvest," En-lai replied mildly.

Intrepid nodded, and cocked her head as a face appeared in their open doorway. "Infinity," the girl said, her eyes straight on Intrepid. She said nothing more, but Intrepid nodded. It was time. She could tell from the look in the six-year-olds eyes. So young to risk her life this way.

"Very well. I'll be back soon," she told the others. "What hath thou done?" Dame demanded sternly. "Thou hath done nothing," Intrepid informed him placidly, as En-lai scowled, obviously wondering if he should accompany her. "I merely have some business to handle. Don't worry," she assured them.

"Let her go. If it has anything to do with Margo, we'll find out soon enough," Cece called, picking up her set of needles without looking up. She still was inequitable towards Intrepid. "True," En-lai eyed her worriedly. Intrepid gave him an assuring grin and hurried away.

Following her guide, they sauntered away from the large warehouse that made up the home for Margo's slaves and into the lightless back alley's of Courascant's underground silently. Intrepid felt a prick of apprehension. She had never been forced to give a speech to this type of audience before.

Rehearsing her speech several times in her mind again, she debated what tone she should take. She had learned early on that how you say something matters just as much as what you say.

Should she sound sympathetic or angry? Proud or determined? _What _was she, really?

I _need to convince a good majority of people who have been slaves their entire lives, and know the consequences for their rebellion, to rebel. I need to convince them to hold on, how in the universe am I going to do that?_ She stressed. Intrepid, as a Jedi, had given many speeches throughout her life.

Lecturing was one thing she was very good at, but this wasn't a lecture, and these weren't politicians who admired her every word and move because she was a Jedi. A Jedi must be flexible, Intrepid thought grimly as she noticed faint lights in the distance.

The place where the rebel children held their meetings was outrageously far away from Margo's, indicating their fear of being caught. She could make out small lanterns burning with faint light in the crumbling, abandoned warehouse that smelt of dust, engine grease and vermin feces. In the night, the warehouse looked like a gigantic monster that was all too willing to eat them all.

Intrepid gulped, and her apprehension grew. At a loss, she twiddled her hands. She had never been afraid to give a_ speech_ before. "Hey!" her guide suddenly hissed, meters before they had reached the warehouse. "What are _you_ doing here?" Intrepid turned around to see En-lai staring up at the warehouse with barely concealed anxiety.

"En-lai!" She barked, grabbing his arm as her apprehension of her speech drained into fear for the rebels. This assembly was strictly for those that were involved with the rebellion or had been invited by rebels to hear her speak of it.

En-lai was _not _on the list, and despite their mutual respect for one another, Intrepid was not sure if she could trust En-lai with the location of this place and the people involved.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded; shielding the building from him with her body. En-lai was staring at her with glassy eyes. "This is it, isn't it? The place where the rebels talk? You're a part of the rebellion already?" He gasped quietly, awed.

"No, it's not!" the little girl next to her squeaked, fear written plainly on her face. Intrepid sighed and pushed En-lai back towards the dark. "Go home, En-lai. This has nothing to do with you," she told him sternly.

"It doesn't?" He challenged. "I should think it has everything to do with me. With all of us. I've been trying to get invited to one of these for months, how'd you get in so fast?" He demanded. "I wrote a letter," Intrepid snapped sarcastically. "Now, get _out_ of here!" She hissed.

"Infinity, come on! You have to give your speech now!" Her guide said, tugging on her hands. Intrepid nodded and gave En-lai another shove in the other direction.

"Speech?" he gasped. "Go on! You can't be here!" Intrepid replied over her shoulder as she ran the other way. With another glare, her guide followed and they slipped into the warehouse, leaving En-lai in the dark.

Inside, over thirty dozen children, of all ages and species sat on the dirt floor, talking quietly, lanterns held in their hands. Intrepid looked around, in the dim orange light, the only thing she could see was the faces of her comrades, stained dark orange by the candle-lights.

She had never been to a rebel meeting so…Primitive.

Scanning the rows of unfamiliar faces, she gulped again. "Infinity," She smiled feebly at Cain, the man who had first rebel she had ever met, and thankfully one of the leaders. The male, several years older than her and yet still treated as a child slave, gave her a tired smile.

"You weren't followed?" He asked. Intrepid waved her hand dismissively. "A minor detail. He's gone now," she answered instinctively, forgetting that this was not war and thus normally people would like to know more. "Um…Okay? Well, you're big stage is right over there," he said, pointing at a squat rotting wood box at the front of the room.

She had never had such a primitive stage, either, but whatever. Intrepid squeezed her friend's hand and smiled. "Thank you, Cain," she said as she headed over to her modest stage. Cain let out a high-pitched whistle behind her and her addressees went silent.

Intrepid stepped upon the box, and felt herself sink a little in its eroding. Several bugs scuttled over her feet, disturbed by her sudden emergence. _That's disgusting,_ Intrepid thought, disliking of the tickle that sent shivers through her. She looked up and sucked in a deep breath.

"My friends," she called loudly, but not so loud as to be heard outside. "My friends, and my rebels, you are slaves," this blunt declaration was met with surprised mutterings.

"Slaves bound to your master's will. Mere children. And property to do and be where and what he will have you to do. That is your life, always has been, and most seem to think it always will be, and hay, it isn't so bad. You get two meals a day and a roof over your heads, better than some people, right?" she shrugged innocently, feigning insouciance.

"But I believe something different," she had their eyes on her now. She folded her arms behind her back and stepped off the rotting box that was crumbling beneath her weight.

"I have been in your situation before. I have helped many rebellious slaves free themselves from their chains, and I have seen it done. You can have freedom. You just have to _earn_ it," after all, nothing in life was free.

She turned and kicking a centipede off her foot, smiled at the crowd. "I see the question some of you want to ask. Why should we? Where would we go, if we were free? What would we do? And besides, Margo would only find us and bring us all back, or someone worse would. Am I wrong?" She was rewarded with several obstinate nods from many skeptical minds.

"Good. Well, I have to admit you are right. There is no guarantee that you would not be captured again. Then again, if you knew how to fight back, what would it matter if they tried again? You could fight again, and win again," she snapped her heel and began pacing back and forth slowly, not meeting the crowd.

They seemed fascinated by her approach. Intrepid felt a bead of sweat run down her forehead. "Where would you go? Well, that would be up to you. There's a whole universe out there, more than just this place. Believe me, I've seen it, and with all the cruelness of the galaxy at large," she sighed.

"It can still be beautiful, at times. You would work, and earn your own living and call your own self master for the first time in your lives. And it will feel good. Freedom…It feels good," she looked up. "But you have to _earn_ it," she repeated.

She stopped, pausing for dramatic effect, and noticed a shadow in the background, watching her every move attentively. _Blast it, En-lai,_ she thought, turning swiftly away. "And as for your last question; why should we? I have…Several answers. Tell me, did any of you_ ask_ to be here?" She met each eye, blazing.

"Say it, did you?" She challenged. Enraged, she saw almost every jaw clench and heads shook. "An outrage. And tell me, when you asked where your parents were, what did Margo tell you? That you were an orphan? Do you believe that?" She demanded.

"No!"

She could feel anger, scarred unto hearts and indignity that were burned into brains, whip her in the force. She was getting them riled, now.

_Perfect. _

"And when he first ordered you around and you asked why you had to do it, did he explain?" She yelled. "Or did he order you to do it? Something you didn't want to do?" Several fists clenched.

"What about your brothers and sisters? Your daughters and sons and teams? What do you feel when you see them whipped? To see the fear and the pain on their face? Do they deserve this?"

"No!"

"Do you deserve this? Do you _want_ this life?"

"No!"

Intrepid heard her heart thumping in her ears. Blast, she was riling herself up. "Do you want to do his dirty work and kill the people he doesn't like? Innocent people?" She saw En-lai look away, ashamed.

"No!"

"Who wants to live their own life and raise their own children and grow up the way they know they _should_ be growing up?"

"Me!"

"We all do! If you don't die fighting for freedom, then you'll die as his slave! You'll be letting him win! Are we just going to let him win, after all he's done and put you through?"

"No!"

"Do you want to be free?!" She demanded.

"YES!"

"You have to earn it, are you ready to earn it? Are you willing to give your_ life_ for freedom?" She had expected this answer to take longer to be answered, but no hesitance was a part of the scream that went about from the standing and shouting crowd.

"Yes!"

"Are you ready to fight and die and suffer for this?" She repeated. They needed to be ready.

"YES!"

"Are you with me?"

"YES!"

"Then down with Margo!" She shouted, throwing up a fist. The response was magical. Dozens of slaves, once dull with the dangers of what they were trying to do, hopped to their feet and started shouting and pacing, screaming out her chant. "Down with Margo! Down with Margo! Down with Margo! _FREEDOM_!" Intrepid grinned and laughed.

_This is amazing. And all I did was give a speech. They'll die for this now. The power of words, force blast!_ She reflected cheerily. She was very pleased with herself. All of a sudden, En-lai pushed himself from out of the crowd and ran up to her before she could speak.

"Infinity, this is _amazing_!" he cried, his eyes overwhelmed with joy as he threw his arms around her and spun her around. Intrepid laughed.

"Down with Margo!" En-lai roared with the rest of the crowd as they danced and sprang about, inspired by the rage they felt in their souls.

_Anakin would love this,_ Infinity chuckled. "You're incredible!" Intrepid experienced her first kiss when, without warning, En-lai took her face between his large hands and kissed her full on the lips. She stiffened, shocked, but her body remained paralyzed.

Then he was gone, cheering and running back into the crowd. Intrepid stood there, her mind boggled and lips still tingling from the kiss.

Gently, she ran a finger over her mouth, wondering whether she should be pleased, embarrassed or….Whatever else. Still debating over this, she watched the crowd of rebels she had just inspired to joy, and waited.

Waited for the war to begin.


	28. Date nightMaybe?

~Anakin's POV~

"Shantra, pass me that wrench, would you?" Anakin called to his friend. Almost immediately, a wrench appeared by his head. He grabbed it.

"Thanks," he said as Shantra lay down next to him and rolled underneath the robotic table they were working on. She looked up at the tangles mass of wires and electronics that made the table, obedient to commands, work.

"Hmm," she mumbled, reaching up to flick at a green wire. Anakin sighed and lowered his arms contentedly, letting them fall to his sides as he gazed up at his work.

"It looks good so far, but somehow I feel as if we're missing some vital aspect she murmured. "Like what?" Anakin asked, thinking that he felt like his_ life_ was missing some vital aspect, too. "I don't know. A feeling, merely," he smiled. She sounded like a Jedi, with all her talk of feelings.

"Well, figure it out so I can do a test run and run home," he said. Shantra chuckled. "Excited to see that wife and those kids of yours?" She asked teasingly. "The kids, ecstatic, the wife? Well, no, no not really," he admitted. Shantra laughed and shook her head. "Traitorous man! You should always be glad to see her, marriage problems or not," she scolded.

"You've never met Page," Anakin pointed out glumly. "I'd much rather stick myself with needles at the moment than argue with her," he sighed. "Then _don't _argue with her. Just have a night where you two try to get along," Shantra said.

"Don't you think I've tried?" Anakin demanded, as if it were perfectly regular for him to have this conversation underneath an electric table and with another woman.

In truth, it was starting to become just that. Shantra was now his unswerving confidant, there whenever he needed her.

"She's impossible! I come in and it doesn't matter what I say, she just blows up at me. I said 'hello, wife,' the other day and she took that to mean I was calling her wife because I didn't like her name. Who does that?" He exclaimed. "Women," Shantra answered defensively.

"And how _dare_ you not call her by her name, you barve," she reprimanded, sternly. Anakin groaned. "I didn't know I wasn't allowed to call her anything but her name, blast it! No one set the guidelines for me!" he said. "That's true," Shantra relented. "It's just something you have to be wary of. I think you two need a break," She told him expertly.

"No, we need our sanity," Anakin moaned, rolling out from under the table. "What do I do, Shantra? I love Page more than my life, but lately, it's as if she's become someone else, someone I couldn't love if I tried," he sighed. Shantra followed him and looked up with concerned lavender eyes.

"Don't worry, Ace, if the love is true, it will find a way," she assured him. Anakin once would have believed that; now he was unsure, and that was something that frightened him dearly.

He groaned in misery. "Alright, alright, since you're so stressed over this; I have a plan," Shantra proposed. Anakin felt relief wash through him; at least _someone_ had a plan.

"Tell me," he beseeched at once. "Okay, so, do you think Page will get into a fight with you if someone is there?" Shantra asked. Anakin thought a moment.

"No," he decided after the moment was over. "Not if anyone is there. It isn't polite, and Page loves to entertain," Shantra nodded, as if she had expected this. She probably had, what with how much Anakin had told her about Padme.

"Good, then I'm coming over tonight. Tell her you invited a friend. Maybe she just needs a woman presence there, that isn't another politician whose sole purpose is to agree with everything she says. And besides, I want to meet the twins," she said. "What's the point of that?" Anakin asked.

Shantra replied by firstly whacking him upside the head with a wrench. "Ow!" he protested. "The point, dear inexperienced male, is to give you two a night where you _aren't_ arguing. Kindle back some of that old affection and tenderness and all that good stuff. Then, maybe, when I leave, you two can work out a compromise and get back to being cooing, agreeable love birds," she explained. Anakin eyed her, skeptical.

"Are you sure that'll work?" he inquired, dubious. "Of course I am. I'm Shantra. And better yet, I'm a female. I know how your wife thinks, trust me," she said quickly. Anakin sighed and shook his head. "If you insist," he accepted, but somehow he had a feeling this night would be no different.

* * *

~Padme's POV~

"Jiro, pass me that bib, would you, please?" Padme called to her friend. Swiftly, Jiro handed her the small rag that sufficed as their bibs and watched as she stuck it on Luke's face. "I'm too big for it!" The four-year-old complained.

"No, you aren't. Do you want to get your nice shirt all dirty? I just bought it," Padme reminded him. In all actuality, Jiro had bought it for Luke, and the toddler, for some reason; had not been too disposed to put it on, but the small dark blue shirt had been too irresistibly cute for Padme to resist.

"Now, put it on your neck. I didn't give you the girl's bib this time," she said. Luke crossed his arms obstinately, his lower lip poking out. "I'm too big for it!" he whined again. Padme chuckled, with his bottom lip poked out that way he looked just like Anakin. "Me too!" Leia added, from next to her brother.

"Don't you complain, too. See little Jebbey here? Is he whining?" She gestured to the baby in a high chair next to them. Both twins sighed in unison and looked up in unison, compassionate eyes gleaming. "No," they sighed.

"Then should you?" Another shake of their heads; again in unison. Padme grinned. "Good. Next time Nava calls I'll tell her how good you're being and maybe she'll get you a present," she assured them.

That broke both faces into toothy grins. Padme clucked. She remembered when they had been babies without teeth, all pink gums. How time flew.

How things had changed.

"Almost the end of the day, old friend," Jiro said as she stood to walk over to the holo-vision where dancing animals and cheery faced Twi'lek's talked about sharing. _I ought to show this to Anakin, maybe it will teach him something,_ Padme thought bitterly.

"Indeed," she agreed placidly, not betraying her treasonous thoughts. She loved Anakin, with all her heart, but lately it seemed as if he had become a different person, a person she could not have loved if she tried.

"Tell me, Jiro, how is it you can stay with me here most days? Don't you have a job?" She inquired, wondering how it was he was able to spend an hour or so here with her almost every day.

Not that she was complaining, what with her and Anakin fighting a civil war almost every night, Jiro had become her dear friend, and in truth, she looked forward to speaking with Jiro with an intensity she was sure Anakin would not have liked.

"Of course. Being manager for a small company, though, gives me much free time," Jiro replied, with some boredom. "Really? That's impressive. What company?" Padme asked absently, dabbing at Hessi's face with a napkin.

The poor girl always got herself so messy, despite being seven already. When Padme neared her neck, the little girl burst into giggles. Padme grinned. These children helped dampen some of the pain of fearing her husband. Or, rather, not _Anakin_ himself but his power, which was endless and strong and that most other force users feared.

"The National Bank of Courascant," she dropped the rag in astonishment, and this time the giggles spread at her clumsiness. "That's our mommy," Leia sighed, shaking her at Padme with a little smile.

Padme stuck her tongue out at her daughter, which made Leia burst into giggles, too. "The what? You call that a _small_ company? And you're manager?" Padme choked out. "Part of the treasury committee, yes. I call it small, I don't do much," Jiro answered, smiling at her shock.

"In fact, that's why I've been commanded by the others," he raised his eyebrows, telling her that the others meant the other future Republic leaders in the rebellion whom they saw each week. Padme nodded in understanding, studying those thick, strong brows, reddish and smooth, like spun copper.

She had never liked redheads before, her preference had always been auburns, but Jiro just looked so _gorgeous _with that head and beard of orange…

"To invite you to a party at my house tonight," he added. "Celebrating what?" Padme asked curiously. Was there some secret holiday or rebel victory she had missed? "Celebrating?" Jiro harrumphed, as if she had just said something immensely hilarious.

"No, we'll be debating. The Chancellor has started firing rebel council members and filling in new positions. Some are against this. I assume you had much to do with it?" Much?

"I gave him the idea," She snorted, without shame. Jiro grinned. "I thought you had. Only you would. Well? Would you like to defend your idea?" He asked. Padme looked up with a cocked eyebrow. He already knew the answer to that. Nevertheless, she thought for a moment Anakin never would have asked her that. He would have already known.

Or, once he would have. Now she knew as little of him as he did her. They were strangers who couldn't even agree on the color of the blasted sky. Padme still thought it was navy; why in the universe would it be cobalt? It was a sky, not a lake.

"I thought I should at least ask first. I didn't know if you and Ace had any plans," Jiro explained, seeing the question in her eyes. Padme snorted, her and Anakin, go anywhere without arguing? Not likely. Not ever again, more than likely.

"No, we won't be going anywhere for awhile yet. Count me in," she agreed heartily. Anything to get out of the house.


	29. The price of justice

~Lux's POV~

_"Lux, dear, please slow down!" His mother laughed as Lux ran across the carriage again and again, peering out at the city, a place he would rule some day. "Let him run! You see that, my boy? There's your kingdom," Lux's father cried in his same deep voice. Lux looked up into kind green eyes and grinned. "All mine?" The four year old asked impishly. "One day," his mother assured him as his father picked him up and set him down again on the seat. _

"Lamar! Lamar!" That wasn't his name, but somehow he felt as if he should answer. "Can you hear us? Lamar!" There was something pressing into Lux's back, and his sides and neck and all over. He couldn't move. He groaned as his vision split into fourths.

_Where is my kingdom? My parents?_ He wondered woozily as a faint twinkle of light appeared overhead, down a tunnel he was not sure should have been there. He succumbed to darkness.

_"The other boys have been making fun of him again! We can't just let him go through such indignities!" His mother argued. Lux, sitting against the door, listened intently. "And yet we can't do anything against it, my dear," his father replied, and Lux felt hurt flit through him. He had expected his father to be on his side._

_Swiping away another tear, he curled inwards another bit, still stung by his friend's hurtful words. "Why in the blazes not?" His mother demanded. "We are not regular parents, remember, my dear. We are more, and every move we make is watched," he reminded her._

_"That doesn't mean we can't raise our a child!" She scoffed. "No, it means we can't raise our child like everyone else would raise theirs. Besides, just as we are not normal parents, never will Lux be just another normal little boy. He is more."_

"I can be!" That statement ripped out of his mouth like a dying man's last breath. It tore itself from his heart; that had always yearned to feel the same burdens and troubles as every other heart, instead of the extra it was forced to bear.

It was ripped from his mind; that argued against the boundaries placed between him and most other people. His mind argued that everything as possible. And it was ripped from his soul, where Lux Bonteri thrashed and wiggled like an eel underneath Lamar Rai, demanding his freedom.

"Lamar! Hold still, please!" A familiar voice pleaded. Lux realized that his body was thrashing, fighting away the chains and leather straps that held him down. "No!" he would not be captured! Where was he? Who were these people? His head hurt, he felt panicked but did not know why. "Hold him down! Anesthetic, hurry!" Someone in the distance ordered. Then he felt a sharp pinch in his neck, and succumbed to their will.

_"Who are these mysterious guardians of peace and justice? Who is to say that one day, they will not attempt to want repayment for their deeds?" the man on the holo-vision asked. _

_"Oh, fools they are, the lot of them. Don't you agree Mrs. Bonteri?" Lux's tutor wondered as he poured them another cup of tea. "The Jedi have been around for centuries and never asked for anything in return for their help but that temple of theirs. Why all this fuss?" his mother agreed. _

_"What are Jedi?" Lux, being seven as he was, curious with all things. "People that, for now; have nothing at all to do with you, dear. Now drink your tea."_

"He's lucky, General Damara. With his wounds, he ought to be dead. As it is, he lost something great," that voice was on the other side of a thick and choking fog in Lux's mind. His ears heard the sounds, but his mind was too numbed to think on it. He listened, uncomprehending.

Memories were flashing, one by one, before his closed eyes. _They weren't in order,_ was the first pathetic thought he could think. "What do you mean; something great?" Another voice, and past the fog something niggled at his brain that he knew the voice. Lux did not think on it.

He wanted to stay here, in numbness. Here, nothing was hot or cold, wrong or right. It was just there, and Lux didn't have to care whether it was there or not.

He felt something move away from some part of his body. Lux could not tell which part it was. His body seemed to have compacted so that he had no limbs and no separate entities with separate names. He was just there; and something, for some reason, felt missing.

A gasp. "Good…..!" A string of curses in some language Lux did not know. He let go of the focus it took to listen and turned back into the fog with gladness.

_"My goodness, darling, not only are you young but entirely too skinny! I need to get some meat on you!" his mother cried in her teasing tone as Lux walked in._

_Smiling, he settled next to his father on the couch as his mother examined a pretty young girl about eleven years older that Lux. The young woman smiled graciously and blushed with girlish innocence. _

_"On Naboo, our meals consist mostly of vegetables," she explained, meekly. "Then we need to get you some meat, miss Amidala," his father laughed, putting an arm about Lux. _

_Lux buried his face in his father's long and giant arms, that seemed to be able to hug the entire perimeter of the world and still have room to spare. Safe and warm in his father's arms, he looked forward to their guest. _

_"You can try some of my beef stew from my experiment today," he offered. She gave him a kind and sparkling grin. "Can I, now?" She asked. His father made a face at her and shook his head slowly. His mother, behind the girl, did the same, both wearing faces of mild panic. Lux scowled. "It is not that bad!" he defended, undeceived, as he nudged his father in the hard-packed stomach. _

_"Yes," both his parents corrected in unison. "It is, Lux." The girl laughed. _

"He has a fever now, boys. His body is trying to fight back, I think it best just to let him sleep," the fog was lifting. Lux attempted to pull the warm rays about himself; cover himself in the numbness, but that option was not to his body's liking. It wanted him to wake. Lux fought it with all the determination he had. "He saved all our lives, sir," his brain made out a name.

_Maxell,_ and shards and pieces of some puzzle he had not been cognizant of fell into place. Lux ignored this. "We owe him a debt. Just let us place these here," a ruffling of some vegetation. "Oh, alright," The fog was lifting. Lux ran away from the fog, once so thick, that was loosening, trying to fight deeper into its warmth.

_"Here, Lux, do it like this…There you go, son! You're flipping flap-jacks like a charm!" Lux rolled his eyes as his father held his arm, expertly using his own strength to manipulate Lux into flipping the small pastry._

_"Why, come look at this, dear wife! The boy's finally learning!" he bellowed across the room. Lux's mother looked up from where she was rolling dough and smiled. "You're doing it, you old fool," she pointed out. "See!" Lux protested. "I can do it, father! I'm a big boy now!" _

_At eleven years old, one would have thought he would have discarded his impressive whine, but Lux often did surprise people with it. "You can't even blow on your soup without turning it nasty, boy!" One of the kitchen maids squawked. That emitted the entire kitchen staff to burst into laughter. Lux poked out his bottom lip in fake hurt; he knew they were only teasing. _

_His father's chest, firm and steadying behind him, rumbled with laughter. His mother giggled a ways away. Suddenly, the doors to the kitchen burst open and into the room walked Lux's tutor, and also his uncle. Tears ran down his face and his green eyes, so like his older brother's twinkled with anguish. _

_"She's dead!" he burst out, hysterically. The entire room fell into silence. "Geoffrey, who…?" His mother started towards him, question unfinished. "Mother!" But his uncle was looking straight at his father, eyes unwavering and angst. "She's gone," he sunk to his knees. "Oh, sweet, merciful Lucifer, she's dead!" Lux didn't drop the flapjack, but his father did. _

_And it seared into the burner and burst into flames. _

"Hay, Lamar? Can you hear me?" A whisper, so soft it could have tickled his ears. "Hay, boy! Didn't I say to go?" A shout, loud enough to ring his ears. For some reason, though, Lux wanted to hear. He wanted to hear what this person had to say.

Lux imagined reaching up, and grabbing whoever was speaking, and listening to whatever they had to say. He needed-wanted-to know. His eyes remained closed. "Yes?" did he say that? Or did someone else? It didn't sound like him, the whisper was hoarse and dry and desolate.

A shocked silence followed that voice-whoever's voice it had been- before someone cleared his throat. "Oh. I didn't think you'd hear me. I…I wanted to say…Thank you," who was he again? Why was he there? Before Lux could wonder, he was pulled back. He found this time he was less willing.

_"I say we join Dooku's Separatist movement. It can't be any worse than the Republic," his mother said. His father only nodded; he hadn't been the same since his mother died. Now he was more reserved, and aloof. Slowly, something inside him, something that had once been loud and vibrant and brilliant, was breaking. Lux watched it break, and felt something in him bend, too. _

"Will he be alright, do you think?" Lux remembered he didn't like that hissing voice. "He's a strong lad. He'll be just fine," he was pulled into the thin fog one last time.

_He was bored. Lux was not normally bored in his pursuit of knowledge, but this tutor, his history tutor, absolutely bored him half way out of his right mind. Couldn't he do anything besides just stand there and drone on and on about this king who lived in this time period who did this and then died this way? He was repeating this exact information over and over again only with different generations. _

_Sighing, Lux wished his father were there. He could have explained why his mother got him this precise tutor and why said tutor was so famous when all he did was drone on and on. But his father, like many of the men on planet, were fighting as a commander in the Clone War. Lux wondered what his father were doing, and if he missed him…_

_Suddenly, his mother screamed. _

_His wish having come true, his tutor went dead silent. Lux jumped from his chair by instinct, and, leaving his history teacher there to wonder in silence, bounded out of the room. Why had his mother screamed? What was wrong? In what seemed to take forever to reach, he finally came upon his mother's room, where a number of maids had come to surround and comfort her. _

_"What happened?" Lux demanded, breathless as he hung unto the doorframe. His mother was seated on her bed, back erect and face an emotionless mask as always, but there were tears shining in her eyes, and a hand covered her mouth in shock. Slowly, she turned her head towards Lux, with even more deliberate slowness, turned the note in her hands so that Lux could see the stamp on the front. It was the stamp of the Separatist's insignia. _

_They only sent letters if…_

_No. _

_"Father," he choked out, half in question and half a plea for it not to be true. His mother shook her head, mutely, and looked back down, quiet as he had ever seen her. _

_All that had once been bright and bold and loud and brilliant about her seemed to have fled, leaving only this cold and remote shell behind. Lux felt his heart quiver, then shatter, then fall. He dropped to his knees and covered his mouth, same as his mother, to hide his scream. _

The scream that now burst forth from his mouth and made several dark shadows above him jump. Lux shot upright, more in alarm than in old anguish. He did not remember having consciously wanted it, but suddenly his eyes snapped open and all thought escaped his mind as severe dazzling light and several bodies became clear.

"Ah!" he gasped out, covering his eyes as pain registered as well, shooting from the fingertips of his right arm to the rest of his body.

He fell back down unto soft and billowy pillows. "Careful, son," said a kind and elderly voice. Lux remembered having heard it before. It was the voice of the man whom had ordered the anesthetic's for him.

A firm and wrinkled hand gentle laid itself on his left shoulder, pushing him down. Lux let his eyes flutter open again to see the camp physician grinning down at him. "You took quite the beating, youngster," Lux was told. "What…?" He swallowed the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

"What happened?" He asked groggily. He had a feeling that he should know what had happened-and that something new had happened since that event-but could not grab at the faint memory.

The doctor chuckled softly and turned to a young nurse, standing beside his bed, who gave him an admiring grin. It was only then Lux realized that he was without his shirt. He blushed and quickly snatched the covers up to hide himself, the nurse only chuckled at his modest attempt and walked off, shaking her head at his silliness.

Lux exhaled with relief when she was gone. "Don't you remember?" The doctor continued; unaware of Lux's embarrassment. "It was a training drill; how to deactivate a bomb. I told the general that the bombs should not have been truly armed, but no; he said," here the doctor bravely rolled his eyes at the general's decision.

"It would give the boy's a reason to step it up, and it was simply supposed to cause a small explosion, and only of goo. Someone, though, added just a tiny bit too much powder to the explosive and when that boy, what was his name? Cent? Maxell? Oh, well, anyway, when he failed to stop the bomb before it was _twelve seconds_ away from blowing, you took precautions like a smart boy," for some reason he seemed to think intelligence and good reason were more than merely related. Lux knew plenty of genius's who had no sense. Ahsoka was one.

"And told the others get out while you defused it the long way. I suppose you did not get it in time. It blew, boy, and the explosion bashed up the entire room! Do you know what saved those fifty or so odd cadets from death?" Lux shook his head, amazed by the story so far.

The doctor grinned. "_You_. It seems you spared just enough time in those seconds before the explosion caught you to run and close the doors, putting yourself straight in the line of fire. That closed door saved the lot of them from total extermination. You, my boy, must be pure magic to have survived. You should be dead. You've been out-cold for three weeks, all the same," Lux inhaled sharply. _Three weeks?_ It had felt like three minutes.

Moving forward, the elderly human put a strong hand on Lux's shoulder. "You're a _hero_, Lamar. The General has awarded you with the soldier's gold medal of courage, and bought you your arm," his… Arm? Lux's confusion must have showed on his face, for the doctor suddenly scowled and shook his head, taking away his hand.

"Lamar, I…" he sighed and looked away, saying no more. "Move the sheets, son," he whispered. Heart thumping in his chest, Lux obeyed. He had not noticed the fact that he could not feel his right arm, now he did; it was because he didn't _have_ a right arm anymore.

The entire thing, from shoulder to fingertips, was gone. In it's place, sparkling silver metal glowed in the shape of an arm. Lux felt vomit slither up his throat. He stared, disbelieving.

"You must have landed on it when you were thrown by the explosion. It was completely crushed; beyond repair. We had to amputate it. I'm sorry, Lamar," the doctor whispered, and his voice sounded very far away. _"The price of justice is very, very high, Lux,"_ that was what his father had said.

* * *

~Ahsoka's POV~

"I'm glad you've finally come to your senses, baby girl," if Ahsoka heard him call her that _one more time_…_Of all things, I am not your baby girl,_ she thought furiously, though she keep her face stoic. Behind her, the drunk and wobbly Bloodshot followed, as, just like Ahsoka had compared him to a few weeks before, a dog on a chain.

Then, Ahsoka had felt no shame at the idea of leading another being to his death. After all, nearly three months of being an assassin working for drug dealers had made her hard. Yet now, leading the man who was soon going to be her dead boss, Ahsoka debated whether she should.

This wasn't _right,_ she knew it wasn't, and vomit slithered up her throat.

She was leading a man to his death, true, not an innocent or virtuous man, but still a man. Who was_ she_ to take his life? _You are a Jedi working undercover, trying to stop the flow and distribution of illegal drugs, a virtuous and worthwhile cause,_ she reminded herself firmly.

_ But does that give you the right to spill his blood? Is it still right to kill and abandon morals if it's for a cause?_ Ahsoka groaned aloud unconsciously, and wished Anakin were here to explain. "I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away for long," Bloodshot continued to persist, his eyes staring contemplatively at her hindquarters.

Blasted drunkard did not know she was only leading him to his death. "I've wanted you for a long time," she didn't even attempt to sound convincing, and the statement was as flat as a tables smooth surface. Bloodshot, drunk as the fool was, wouldn't mind.

He grunted and let out a high-pitched giggle of mischief. "You wouldn't be the first, baby girl," she rolled her eyes and continued with her anxious thoughts. This was murder; would she really be able to carry the burden of death on her hands? But what else could she do?

They were already half way to the landing point. _Maybe he means to kill me, too,_ Ahsoka brooded, having already planned for this. It would be a great deal easier if he did try, then Ahsoka would kill him out of self-defense and hopefully Bloodshot would get killed in the fray, too.

_Blast! A Jedi does not think such things!_ Ahsoka scolded herself, frightened by her own malicious thoughts. _Jedi do not take lives so lightly, Ahsoka, _but they had, and the Jedi now did, because of the war. Was it still wrong then, if you did what you must for war's sake?

"I see you followed up on your promise," Ahsoka jumped, startled out of her thoughts by a loud and obviously pleased voice. Startled, she looked up to a top of a shadowed building, where whomever she was working for stood in the dimmed light. Ahsoka's head spun. What could she do? What_ should_ she do?

_What would Anakin do?_

This thought, a mere second's thought, did nothing at all to help. Considering that Anakin was an unorthodox Jedi who _set_ his own rules, _followed _his own rules, and if it took disregarding the Code to ensue those rules, well, then he wouldn't think more than twice about it, maybe not even that; and thus was a very bad example to follow in anything but war and military tactics. Dispensing of his memory, Ahsoka switched to his opposite, Obi-wan.

_ "I will do as I must, Master Yoda,"_

But blast, he was no help either! That blasted saying of his pointed to death and murder, the barve. "Of course. Do you have my money?" She even sounded like a cruel hearted traitor. Nervously, Ahsoka turned around to look at Bloodshot, who was surveying the sky with distress, as if some wonderful divination had just spoken to him.

"I do. He's drunk?" Her boss rasped out with a small laugh. Ahsoka stepped out of the way as Bloodshot gasped and reeled backwards, nearly colliding with her in his conflict to find the speaking entity.

"Can't you tell?" She remarked dryly. "Alright, lets get this over with. I've got my girl waiting for me back at headquarters," he grunted, swinging down from the building casually. Ahsoka's heart was beating in her chest.

She could not rely on Anakin anymore, nor any of the others. This time, Intrepid was not there to tell what the Jedi way would dictate, nor Anakin there to advise her what would be more merciful, or Lux to grunt out some random reply that would inspire a great idea.

Ahsoka had her own knowledge, not examples from theirs. In war, all you had to do was avoid a mistake that had undoubtedly already been made. This was not war; at least not the kind she was used to fighting, and Ahsoka had to make her own decision with her_ own_ feelings not tainted by past teachings or advice or the Code.

It was all her, all now. She could not lean on Anakin's teachings or her hundreds of examples to follow, merely herself. She had to be her own Jedi, not one the kind who depended on those before her to set her way. She was setting her own way now.

The human male walked up to Bloodshot, still reeling; only now he was going in circles like a full-fledged dolt. Ahsoka's breath hitched in her throat. _All me, all now. _It was cowardly to take out an unarmed man, and Bloodshot was most definitely unarmed as the human pushed past Ahsoka, blaster raised.

She summoned the force, and decided, not taking her time to think about it twice. She had to trust herself, and if this was a mistake, well, then, she would face the consequences later.

Just as the blaster was raised, pointed directly as Bloodshot's skull, a humming green blade crackled in the night, and then was gone, leaving not one, but two dead bodies on the cold ground. Instead of deciding who she would let die, Ahsoka had evened out the scores.

She had killed both of them.

Leaving the two bleeding bodies there, she vanished into the night, mask still in place. One side of the mask smiled, yet Ahsoka's heart wept. Her first decision that had been untainted; and it had been hideous murder.


	30. A rather interesting date night

~Anakin's POV~

Padme was already gone when Shantra arrived. When a knock came at the door, Padme had been gone for a half hour, off to some party at one of her friend's.

She had not even stayed long enough for Anakin to get out the words "I invited my…" before she had interrupted him with excited impatience.

"I've got to go, Ace! I'll be back late. Bye, light, bye peace," giving the twins hurried kisses on the cheeks, she had swerved past Anakin, who had not expected a kiss anyway, but found he was still disappointed when those pert lips missed him, and exited swiftly.

Shantra seemed to see all of this and more on his face when he opened the door. And, also noticing the bitterness in his gaze, she only shook her head and pushed past him into the house. "No dinner?" She inquired. Anakin shook his head. "I don't even know _how_ to cook," he lamented.

Shantra sighed and folded her small jacket over her arm. "Clueless male," she clucked sympathetically. "Good for you I've come. Now, where are the twins? Since you're such a useless cook, and their mother is absent to give me actual good conversation, I'll teach you all how to make cookies," at the delicious word of desert, Luke and Leia appeared out of the kitchen, eyes wide. "Cookies?" They inquired in unison. Anakin laughed as Shantra grinned.

"Yes, cookies. Come along, Ace. And which is which? Good heavens, why do you two look so smart? You could be pickpockets with those pretty brown and blue eyes," she scolded teasingly.

Luke and Leia studied this new stranger curiously, and Anakin felt light force pokes prodding her. He sent the Twins a stern look, but having already finished their examination and concluding that this woman was no threat to them, the twins had already begun jabbering amiably away with Shantra.

Shaking his head, he cast one last longing look at the door, where somewhere his wife was having equal fun elsewhere, and followed them into the kitchens. After all, what was more important, Padme or cookies?

Anakin voted cookies.

* * *

~Padme's POV~

"Am I early?" Padme wondered aloud as she waited outside of Jiro's apartment. Looking about, she found she was very impressed.

High above t

he atmosphere, she could easily make out Courascant's buzzing atmosphere and twinkling lights. Hundreds of speeders and lights and buildings, combined with the chirp and chatter of Courascant's natural inhabitants below, all swirling together in her mind's eye with the colors of infinity.

How could a mad man rule something this beautiful? Sidious didn't deserve for this to be his throne, that what was once part of her crown. And why was it these apartments stood in wonderful contrast, being painted a light mauve, compared to her raggedy home?

Natural envy grew slightly in Padme; she wished she could have at least kept the view she had had at the Senate Building, a small mound from up here.

It was as if she were an angel looking down on her kingdom. _"Are you an angel?"_ Padme gulped and shook her head, waiting patiently for Jiro to answer his confounded door.

_ You have a family, and a husband who, despite his selfish, overbearing, untrusting, arrogant nature, takes care of you. You have two children whom you love, and who love you. What else could you want?_ She demanded of herself.

But perhaps personal vanity, caused the bubble of envy to grow inside of her. She wanted this apartment, for one. This view, for two. For Sidious to be dragged out of his smug senate building and burned on a stake, for three.

For Anakin to develop the wisdom so many Jedi seemed to have inherited and_ close_ his mouth every once in awhile so that he could listen to what she was saying, instead of what he _wanted _her to say…

Jiro opened the door, interrupting her growing thoughts of anger.

Padme smiled at him. "Am I early?" She repeated, when he grinned back. "No. Everyone else is running late. Come in, won't you? You can help me blow up these blasted balloons, I'm out of breath," Jiro said.

Padme laughed and sauntered in when he stepped aside. She inhaled sharply at the sight that greeted her. Though the apartment was small, it was…Magnificent.

The beautiful wood floors were polished to perfection, the lights above gave off a dull orange glow, dimming the room and literally being conducive to the floors that glowed a light orange, like the fading lights of sunset.

On her right, the marble countertops in the kitchen and stainless steel equipment topped any she had ever seen. Paintings and portraits famous to Naboo's culture were hung up all around.

Bookshelves, high as the ceiling, stood proudly next to the miniscule kitchen, while, sitting bravely on the wall, a copy of the Republic's constitution was bejeweled, also, it took up the entire wall from ceiling to floor.

Jiro, indeed, had been blowing up balloons. To Padme's left, a giant window took up half the wall, and showed the lights of Courascant, sort of like the giant window in the Chancellor's office.

Gathered about this lively place were three small couches, the color of nighttime. An elliptical table sat amidst this array of couches, and on it small pieces of rubber still waited. Two balloons, pathetically blown up, hovered a few centimeters from the floor lazily.

"You…You live here?" Padme gasped, feeling like a grimy beggar at the doorstep of a king. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Do you like it? It took me hours to get away all my clutter," Jiro replied, walking over to sit on the couch. He began to attempt at blowing up balloons again, and he was doing a horrendous job at it.

"Like it? This is more extravagant than my suite at the senate Building!" Padme gasped. Jiro chuckled. "Truly? Well, I feel snobbish, then. I have an eye for the over-elaborate, call it a weakness, if you will," he told her casually. Padme stepped in, cautious of all the glass and sparkling things of excellence.

"I do, too," she admitted. "You can afford all this from being part of the bank treasury?" She asked, carefully slipping off her shoes so they would not stain the flawless floors. She was suddenly feeling very self-conscious. "Afford?" Jiro snorted.

"Yes, well, I am struggling a tad, but yes. In truth, I received half of these things from my sister, who lives some place or another, and is a true billionaire. She invented something or another and got rich. I really can't remember. We don't keep contact so much anymore, not since mom died," he grunted.

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that," Padme said, feeling a tinge of guilt. She had not any siblings to communicate with, but she hadn't spoken to her parents in years.

"No great loss. We never had much in common anyway. Always got along perfectly fine, but that's just because I'm good natured and she's blasé," he explained. Padme nodded, standing stiffly by the door.

She _really_ felt as if she did not belong here, and the strange urge to run out the door and back home engulfed her. Jiro seemed to sense her unease.

He looked up and smiled at her kindly. "Padme," he said slowly. "Hmm?" She inquired, not wishing for him to take it personally.

"You are a senator for the grand legacy of the Republic. You were once queen of Naboo. I know this is a bit of a shock after where you've been living recently, but you_ do_ belong in a palace, and this is no palace," as little sense as that made, it made perfect sense to Padme. She relaxed, and grinned at her friend.

"Thank you," she breathed, as self-consciousness left her in a rush of exhaled breath. Jiro laughed and nodded in answer. "No worries, I felt terribly vain and self-centered when I first came to visit you. But the house, and its contents mean nothing. It's the _spirit _of the inhabitant that matters. You taught me that," he assured her. Padme sat next to him on the couch.

"Glad to be of service," she chirped, taking a balloon in her hands. "Where's Anakin? I sort of hoped you'd bring him," Jiro asked. "At home. He said something about inviting someone over. I think he meant Obi-wan, so they'll have the twins occupied," she stated, with an unconcerned wave of her hand.

"Why'd you want me to bring him anyway?" She asked. Jiro gave her an incredulous look. "You're married to _Anakin Skywalker_, Padme! Who _doesn't_ want to meet the fabled _Hero With no Fear_?" Jiro demanded.

Padme snorted bitterly. "So you're one of his admirers, too? Weird. You know how much of a jerk he's been lately. That Jedi part of him is only one side," she replied. "And that one side, you've got to admit, is pretty fascinating. I've always wondered about the Jedi. They seem so…God like," Jiro breathed.

"They're people, just like everyone else," Padme informed him firmly. "All of them. No different from the rest of us, exempt the force and their training. I used to see Anakin as who he is, the man inside of him instead of the hero people see on the outside," she scoffed.

"And now?" Jiro wondered curiously. Padme looked up, and she knew that her eyes were haunted. "Now?" She asked softly.

"Now, I think he's burying that man too deep, and I'm starting to lose him. The Jedi-the powerful warrior that could kill me with a snap of his fingers-is coming through, and I'm starting to wonder what _exactly_ I married," she whispered, and with that confession, her heart cracked.

Later:

_ "The Jedi-the powerful warrior that could kill me with a snap of his fingers-is coming through, and I'm starting to wonder what exactly I married,"_ Padme shivered, partly from the mild cold and partly from the anguish that wracked her body at this thought.

She had not said it aloud for weeks. She had not wanted to face it. Let the truth stay buried in her bowels and treacherous mind.

_ "It's only common couple-problems. The bumpy roads of marriage. That's what it is," _she'd tried to reassure herself. Though, with what she had told Jiro, the words mutated offspring from the deepest pockets of her soul, she was not so sure.

Padme hurried through the darkened streets as a light drizzle started to fall, as if telling her that these small pieces of water signified the small pieces of her heart that were breaking.

She really should have taken a speeder; they_ did_ have one. However, it was kept at Anakin's shop to avoid it being filched by their neighbors.

It was that reason why she had not taken one; she hadn't wanted to get into an argument with him over something on the way to go get the speeder and inevitably become late to the party. Wandering alone in the streets at night, in the dark and rain, though, was as favorable as arguing.

Jiro had offered to drive her, but it was late, and Padme had insisted that she had a blaster in her pocket by habit and would be fine. Besides, Jiro had other guests he had to attend too. She had slipped out while before Jiro could say another word.

Only a few more minutes, she was on the street leading down to her house, anyhow. Swallowing unease, Padme drifted towards her windows.

At least it was warm in the house, and even if Anakin was awake, she could merely run past him and up to see the twins in bed. Hopefully, they weren't fully asleep yet, she could still kiss them goodnight.

At last, Padme reached her house. Quickly, she started to type in the code when all of a sudden, a woman's laughter sounded from inside. Startled, Padme scowled and peered into the windows.

She had not heard the loud and jovial music from inside before, but now she noticed it. Inside of_ her_ house, Padme also now noticed the twins, Anakin and another young woman, around Anakin's age, all dancing out to the rhythm.

"Whoo! Show us how it's done, my girl!" the woman cheered as they cleared away, bouncing lightly on their feet, to make room for Leia.

Padme clenched her teeth. Leia danced out to the middle of the circle, and with astonishing balance, jumped to her palms and began to hop up and down, her legs flopping like a puppet's. Her long brown coils, braided expertly into pigtails, joggled about as Leia laughed and the others cheered. "Go, Luke!" Anakin called, pushing the toddler forward playfully.

_ Don't use his real name!_ Padme thought with alarm. The woman did not seem to care, though, she only joined Anakin in cheering as Luke did a belly flop on the ground and executed a very good impression of The Worm happily, laughing. "Dance stars of the future!" The woman called, whooping. Anakin laughed boisterously and shook his head.

"Someone is going to call the police on us!" he yelled over the music to her. "Let them! Tonight we say damn everything outside these walls, we're alive!" The woman retorted, to the whoops of the twins.

"Now come on, you useless hackneyed male!" Anakin's face showed delighted alarm as she grabbed his hands and pulled him to join the twins. They clasped hands and spun in circles, laughing like giddy children.

Padme's heart burned with enraged jealousy. Who was this person, to come and take over her house and play with her children and dance with _her_ husband? How dare she? And what in the blazes did Anakin think he was doing?

Padme stomped back up to the door, intent on running in and attacking the intruder when Anakin's voice rang out clear. "We are the Champions!" He laughed dizzily. Padme pressed her ear to the door.

Thunder boomed in the sky, dooming them to infinite future abomination. "Watch out! We're going to fall!" A thud as Padme assumed they all collapsed. She hurried to the windows. Were the twins hurt? No, they weren't.

They were _ecstatic_. A giant mound of giggling, helpless people lay in her living room. Luke was on top of Leia; and Leia on top of the woman, and the woman… On top of Anakin, her face inches from his as Anakin laughed.

Padme was trembling with jealousy and hurt. "That was so much fun!" Leia squealed. "Let's do it again!" Luke agreed. "I think fatha will break his back if we do it again," Anakin called out, breathless. Padme watched his mechanical hand as it lay limply on the woman's lower back.

That was where he held _her_.

Tears stung her eyes. "He's right, children. You need to go off to bed!" The woman called over her shoulder. Both children burst into hysterical laughter. "You're funny, Shantra!" they giggled, poking her back. This woman, who was named Shantra, evidently, grinned.

"You know me well, twins. Laying down is for lazy people! We're going to go on all night! _Up_, man!" She ordered as she suddenly erupted back to life, bringing Anakin, and the twins with her.

With catastrophic and rare glee, they began again. Anakin, tired and still laughing too hard, slumped against the stairs. He watched Shantra dance with Padme's children, twirling with girlish abandon.

_ His eyes never sparkled like that for me,_ she thought ruefully. Turning away to swipe at her tears, Padme looked back the way she came, vengeance kindling in her heart underneath the ashes of sorrow.

Since Anakin obviously had a woman there to fulfill his ignorant, thrice-accursed desires, Padme would go back to Jiro. Turning on her heel, she vanished into the dark.


	31. Love over honor

**_A Month Later:_**

~Intrepid's POV~

"Look at what I got us!" Intrepid's voice echoed lightly back to her as she stepped into the cold concrete room. Inside, the only person available was En-lai.

The rest of the room was empty. Intrepid frowned. "Where is everybody?" She asked. En-lai looked up and gave her a small smile.

"Trading our goods at the marketplace," he replied. "Your strategy, as foolhardy as I thought it was, worked to perfection," he chuckled. Intrepid shrugged, feeling her face flush, and stayed by the door holding the blanket that she had recently just traded for at the market for the freshly grown fruits they now had.

En-lai looked back down and kept picking silently at his wood with his carving knife. Though there was no _tension_, exactly, anyway, the relationship-if that was what one would call it-between them was awkward, ever since En-lai's kiss that month back. Intrepid looked down, fighting the forbidden feelings she felt inside without much success.

"So," En-lai began, clearing his throat. "Who'd you get that from? The blanket, I mean," he added hastily, realizing that he had nodded towards her person in order to gesture at it.

Intrepid let out a long breath, thinking on how_ stupid_ this was. "Bella," she replied. "She….Er…Gave it to me, for that rutemelon we just planted," she explained. En-lai studied the fabric. "Is it warm?" he asked.

Intrepid nodded. "I thought it could be, you know, sort of a cushion for the twins, since we sleep on concrete, I'm going to get more sometime in the future," she explained. En-lai nodded and smiled sadly. "You've done more for this team-for all of us-than I could ever hope to," he chuckled. Intrepid felt her face and head tails grow warm.

"I come to serve," she spluttered instinctively, and then clamped her mouth shut, realizing her mistake too late. That was a Jedi saying. "Yeah," En-lai did not seem to notice. He looked back down at his wood.

"Yeah, I can see that quite plainly. How's the weapon stock up going?" He began conversationally. "Good," Intrepid really, really wished that someone-anyone, heck, she would even settle for _Cece_- would come in, so that it would not be just her and En-lai, alone.

It was bad enough for her at night, when she slept on the floor, cuddled close to the others to preserve warmth. It had only happened a few times, but En-lai had laid down next to _her_, of all people, his back touching her own, and Intrepid would lay awake the entire night, tense against her body's interest in the character at its side. Intrepid wondered vaguely if En-lai felt the same way when he was at her side.

_ You are a Jedi. Jedi cannot love! _She shouted at herself. _If we cannot love, what is this new feeling in your breast? Jedi choose not to love, it does not mean your incapable,_ Intrepid had thought so.

When the Code said a Jedi cannot love, it should have switched around wording to: A Jedi should not love, a Jedi must not love, a Jedi will not love, anything but cannot!

Intrepid had always wondered_ how_ Anakin and Padme had fallen in love, and dimly, dumbly, she had thought mayhap it was Anakin's force power that had brought it on.

Then her master and Obi-wan had obviously fallen deeply into infatuation….Well, they were…Nava and Obi-wan. They were allowed to do mysterious and odd things because both possessed the wisdom to know what such things meant and how they worked.

It was idiotic, Intrepid now realized, but she had always believed that a Jedi honestly could not love; that as a Jedi, she did not have the ability. Now she had found out otherwise, and it scared her. This feeling in her chest that made her breath cut short whenever En-lai was in the room. All because of a thrice accursed kiss!

"Come sit down, Infinity. You look tired. Has the sun already set?" En-lai asked. Intrepid did not move. "Just about, it's afternoon," she answered unthinkingly, then remembered that En-lai did not know what words such as morning, noon and afternoon meant.

He had been a slave his entire life, subject to a certain dialogue at all times, and those words were not a part of them. When the sun rose and set was his way of saying it.

"I mean that the sun is close to setting," she changed her wording before En-lai could remind her. He smiled ruefully and nodded. "Where'd you learn those words?" he asked curiously. Intrepid shrugged, looking at anything but his eyes.

"Where I come from everyone knows those types of words," she replied, stoically. They had never really spoken much of their pasts.

"It sounds nice, this place you come from," En-lai observed wistfully. Intrepid nodded, and, winning a large mental battle, moved inside slowly, smiling sadly.

Yes, the Jedi Temple had once been the nicest place in the galaxy. "Well," she considered. "It was, once. Until the Sith," En-lai nodded. No matter where you were in the galaxy, the takeover of Sidious affected you.

"Did you ever have a family?" En-lai wondered. Intrepid nodded and sat next to him, lying the blanket before them so that she could fold it. "More of a village. Hundreds of people, and they all worked together to raise me," she explained, as truthfully as she could.

"And your parents?" She halted in her folding for a moment, dumbstruck. What could she say about her parents? She had never met them.

"Dead," she spat instead, settling for this statement that neither knew if it was true or not, and only one cared. "I see," En-lai muttered, having heard this said about many pairs of parents. He nodded. "What about you? Do you have any memory of your parents?" Intrepid inquired.

En-lai stopped picking at his wood, and suddenly his eyes glossed over. He was silent for a long moment. Intrepid could feel conflicting emotions in the force, and she looked up, compassion falling instinctively into place. She waited patiently, studying his face, which had hardened into a mask.

She traced the strong curves of his face, from his temple to his jaw line, then the graceful fall of his sloping neck and collarbone. She wondered if his chest was as muscular as his arms.

Intrepid had never found humans particularly attractive, force knew that when she was smaller, she used to think them the ugliest of all the galaxy's creatures, and that was a long list, but En-lai didn't seem to share the similar and utterly boring shapes of his species.

For some reason, he shined in the force as well as in her eyes, his black hair reminded her of a summer eclipse, that beautiful and unreservedly magical time when the moon crossed over and for once, sent the day into night with its eternal strength. His cool blue eyes were like the thin sheet of ice on a pond.

Intrepid 's mind suddenly bucked to a stop, panicked. _Wait a minute! Are you really thinking about this right now? Really?_ She shook her head, thankfully spared any more thoughts on this dilemma by En-lai, who had begun to speak.

"I was kidnapped later than most of the others. I was taken when I was six. My parents tried to hide me my entire life. I was their only child. They kept me inside the house while they went work. I was not allowed near the windows, or on the streets. I spent the first six years of my life inside. They never told me why, just to do it," Intrepid could very well imagine that. She had rarely ever been outside of the temple until she became Padawan.

She listened patiently, there was pain splotched unto En-lai's force presence, and even without the force, she could still….She _knew_ it. And she found that more than anything, Intrepid just wanted to take the pain away from him, more so than anyone.

"I didn't know that they were trying to protect me from Margo and his kidnappers who would have seen me immediately. Somehow, though, word got out," his voice cracked and he leaned forward, putting his chin on his hands. Intrepid placed a hand on his back as he leaned over, deep in thought.

"Maybe it was one of our neighbors. Maybe one of mom's supposed _friends_, guess I'll never know. Anyway, I can't-or maybe my brain won't-remember everything that happened. I remember my parents had already gone to work, and I was inside, playing with one of my little toys," he stopped, as if attempting to remember which little toy it might have been, before continuing.

"When I heard the front door crash open, as if someone had torn it from the wall. Next thing I know, I was gagged, blindfolded and thrown into a burlap bag. I've spent the rest of my life here," Intrepid felt rage curdle within her.

Taking a child off the streets, well, that was one thing, not a_ good_ thing, but another thing entirely from breaking into that child's home and safe haven to steal them from their bed. "You don't know what happened to them, do you?" Intrepid already knew the answer.

En-lai shook his head slowly, hanging his head in either shame, anguish or both. "I can only hope they're okay, and have moved on. I…I…Miss them a lot. You-you actually remind me of my mother, sometimes," he gulped.

Intrepid leaned forward, and, surprising herself, took his chin in her hand, and tipped his head back to look into her eyes, fiercely buzzing.

"Don't you hang your head," she ordered sternly. "Missing them, that is nothing to be ashamed of. That you were taken later than everyone else here, it was not _your _fault. It is Margo that has done this to you, and your family. And one day, you will have your freedom, and I will help you. In the meantime, don't you _hang your head_, En-lai," she told him firmly. He blinked, taken aback by her ferocity.

Intrepid kept his gaze a moment longer, studying the shock, gratitude, and strength she notice din his eyes, before looking away. She released his face, and started back to her folding, leisurely. She felt En-lai's eyes on her. "You believe we'll be free, really you do?" En-lai whispered. _What is wrong with me?_

"Of course," she replied, struggling not to let her voice wobble. She had been so close, close enough to smell his breath and close enough to notice the outline of ductile and tepid lips… _Uh! Stop it! You're a Jedi! _But that did not mean she could not love. It had to be a choice. It _was _herchoice.

_ I'm not sure I want this to be my choice, _Intrepid thought with some fright. What if she made the_ wrong_ decision?

"_Attachment leads to possession, possession leads to disappointment, disappointment leads to fear, fear leads to anger and anger, leads to suffering it does_," Wasn't that what Master Yoda had always said? Was this attachment? What was the exact definition of attachment, really? And did it mean the same thing all the time?

"Oh. I see. You're not very bright, are you?" En-lai teased lightly, sounding a smidgen bit breathless. Intrepid could not help but chuckle.

"Probably not, but I-" before she could finish, she found herself mysteriously in En-lai's arms, his breath warm on her cheek, her arm wrapped about his neck to keep them both balanced.

The impulse to slap him was her first instinct, but when his soft lips collided with her own and sent her entire body into a warm arrest of tingling pleasure, her mind emptied itself of all thought entirely.

Finally, too soon in Intrepid's mind, he separated to look into her eyes. His own eyes reflected the same startled passion as hers. "I'm sorry," he gasped out sincerely. "I…I don't…But, I just…" his grip on her tightened; and Intrepid blinked several times.

_ It has to be a choice. _

"Well," she cleared her throat. "This is awkward," she noticed, lamely.

_ It is your choice. _

"Yeah," En-lai let out an uneasy laugh. "I...I shouldn't have done that, but I couldn't stand it any longer. Just sitting here, I mean, and you were so close… Do I make any sense right now?"

_Choose, girl. _

Intrepid could hardly think past the endearing eyes staring at her with worry, embarrassment and lust, much less make the difficult choice ahead. "Plenty," she assured him nervously. "Because I really don't know what to do, either."

_ "There is no emotion, there is peace."_

"Right. Has…Have you ever felt this way with anyone else?" En-lai inquired, obviously hoping that she would be the veteran and thus could tell him what to do. Intrepid's heart was thudding in her ears at twice the normal rate. "Um, no. Never. I…I didn't think I could," she admitted.

_If there is no emotion, what the heck is this going on in my heart?_

"Do you want me to let you go?" Her own grip on him tightened, and a spasm of fear overtook her at the thought. "No," some magic demon who controlled her mouth answered. "I…I don't want too, either," En-lai stuttered, never taking his eyes from hers. "But I probably should…I mean, this was all so sudden, and your eyes…I love the color of your eyes…"

_ "All of us will have to become something totally different in this."_

They had decided to become different people when they had dared venture to Courascant. "Yes, yes, my eyes," she agreed dismissively. "Is this…Normal? We don't even know that much about each other. We haven't even known each other more than four months," She pointed out, panting lightly. Her body seemed to disagree with logic.

_ It is your choice. You can have one but not the other. _

So she had to choose between this boy she hardly knew and the Jedi? The boy her heart screamed yes and her mind was still tottering on the edge, while both life, mind and heart had already pledged itself to the Jedi? How was that fair? "I know," En-lai groaned, and Intrepid could not help but think that he was very beautiful, and she felt very safe and very warm in his arms, like nothing could hurt her.

_ You have already become something that is not Jedi._

"I barely know you," En-lai groaned, and it sounded like he was in physical pain. "We haven't really spoken more than a few dozen times, and yet I feel like I've known you my entire life, like I don't have to say anything because you already blasted know me. I feel as if I want to spread myself over you like a cloak and protect you. I…I love you, more than life itself, but I don't_ know_ you," he growled out, almost accusingly.

_Make your choice, Intrepid. _

She gulped, and her chin quivered. "You…Love me?" She altered. "It's the only word I can think of to describe this. Are you aware that I seriously can't stop thinking about kissing you right now?" Well, at least they were in agreement on something. "Maybe it's only a phase?" She wondered, hopefully.

_ What would Nava say?_

En-lai shook his head, miserably. "No, I've had those before. Phases, infatuation. I know what those are. Then, I only wanted their body, now, I feel like that is just an unimportant bonus. What do you feel?" Oh, why did he have to ask that? She had been raised in the_ Jedi Temple_, they did not teach you about _these_ types of feelings there. This was not any blasted thing from the force, but from inside her heart.

_ Nava isn't here to say anything. _

This rebellion was unusual. "There's so much you don't know," _like the fact that I'm a Jedi_. "And so much I don't know about you," _like everything else but your_ _name_. "And…I don't usually pay attention to my feelings," _emotion clouds your judgment_.

"But _this _is sort of hard to ignore. I feel like I want to stand next to you and just place a giant shield in front of you and fight through a whole army in order to get you your freedom," damn, wasn't that deep? En-lai inhaled sharply.

_ Why does this have to be so difficult? Why did not anyone __**tell **__me about this?_

"I guess…We're in agreement, then. What do we do now?" he asked. Intrepid gave a small shrug. "We try to do our best?" She suggested, again lamely.

_ "There is no try, it is do or do not,"_

Stupid Yoda. En-lai smiled at that, and Intrepid felt herself smile back, just because he was. "Maybe…Maybe we can talk and catch up later. We_ do_ have our whole lives ahead of us," En-lai came up with the better idea. Intrepid considered this.

_ "Faith can be betrayed, trust can be lost, love can be misplaced, but none can ever be avoided."_

"Okay," she accepted. "But…What do we do right now?"

_ Choose one or another, that is what!_

En-lai suddenly grinned, and his eyes sparked with mischievousness. "You know when I said I can't stop thinking of kissing you?" her heart seemed to skip a beat. "Yah?" she ventured. "Well, I still haven't stopped."

_ FINE! I Chose!_

"Is that so?"

_ What is it then? What do you say?_

"Yep."

_ I say him, damn the Jedi, I say __**En-lai**__! I love him!_

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

_ Good choice. _

"Your permission."

_ I became Infinity long ago. I don't think it makes sense to go back to being Intrepid now._

Intrepid gave him her permission when she pulled him down to meet her lips, and kept him there fiercely. Let the future sort out itself. She had chosen, and she had no regrets.

_Intrepid, and the life she lived, are dead to me. _


	32. The slow decay

~Ahsoka's POV~

Ahsoka Tano had killed thirteen people since she had become a Padawan. She had kept track of each of them and remembered each death taken in her name, and in the name of the justice she served.

She had committed many crimes in the name of justice, but was it still justice to commit dishonest crimes in its name? Was it still mercy to have killed them to save one? Was it right to have killed them both? When had it become right at all, to kill? Ahsoka let out a sob and buried her face in her hands.

_ What am I becoming? _She lamented, choking back more tears. Their blood was still on the silver hilt of her sabers. Two men, dead. And Ahsoka was not sure she should have killed them. True, it was better not to think about it, because if you did it would drive you mad.

But wasn't it wrong to not think about it? Every person Ahsoka had killed had died for a reason. It had been self-defense or mercy, always, every time. This time, the blaster had not even been aimed at her. Did it even make sense that she had killed one man to save another? And neither had even deserved life.

_ The past is the past;_ she tried to reason. _There isn't anything you can do, Ahsoka. You already killed them,_ sniffling, she lifted her head and gazed up at the dimmed lights of the underground. No moon, no stars.

Just artificial light.

"I didn't want this, you know," she murmured to their lost souls, closing her eyes. "I didn't ask for this, but it is what I got, and it is who I have to be now. If I'm going to save this city from drugs, I'm going to have to forget what I've been taught," and that hurt, it hurt so badly…

Those teachings were all she had, and all her childhood had been made of were that Code and those beliefs. Beliefs that if she wanted to stay sane, if she wanted to live and win this fight, she'd have to forget, and bury. She was alone, and no one was even considering coming to help her.

Ahsoka opened her eyes, and grabbed her mask, sitting at her side. "If I want to win this fight, and keep my sanity, I'll have to forget _everything,"_ Anakin, Master Plo, Intrepid, the twins, Lux, Padme…All of them. Everything they had ever taught her.

Maybe she was dishonoring them, but it would all pay off when the fight was over. This was war, and in war, you did things that weren't justice, or fair, or even remotely right, but you did it, because you were in war. So, she slipped on her mask and stood up.

Her name was Air Raid.

_ "Ahsoka Tano, and the life she lived, are dead to me."_

* * *

~Lux's POV~

"Can I…Come in?" Lux was startled out his thoughts, which mostly revolved around the cold metal thing that now replaced his right arm, and looked up to see Maxell in the doorway, a lopsided grin on his face. Lux tried to smile back. "Yah," he replied. "Welcome to my humble abode," he tried to joke.

Maxell chuckled softly and journeyed into the medical room cautiously, as if he expected the beeping machines and whirring technology to devour his entity.

Lux quickly snatched his protective glove and put it on the hideous device that dared name itself limb, and yet was only a cast-off, created and designed to be a fake replacement for flesh and blood that his parents had rightfully given him. Somehow, Lux felt…Incomplete.

It was not just a hand that he had lost. It was something _more,_ though he could not name it if he tried.

"Humble? And what with all these do-dads and buzzy wingers in here? You're living the life, man," Maxell joked back, standing awkwardly by his bed. Lux shrugged speechlessly glancing at his arm again. _Yah,_ he thought remorsefully. _Living the life._

"Uhhh," Maxell rubbed the back of his neck, his twelve tendrils floating lightly with either anxiety or Lux's own mutilated feelings.

"So, um, how's it been going with the uh…?" he looked pointedly down at Lux's arm. Lux shrugged. "It works," yes, he could be grateful for that at least. The thing_ worked_.

"I'd hope so. General Damara paid a pretty price for it. Pure gold, that thing, er, I mean…Arm," obviously nervous about Lux's changed bio, Maxell cleared his throat and moved on. Lux watched his squirm with thinly disguised impatience. "Speaking of the grand ol' general, you need to hurry up and heal, buddy, because he's driving us mad," that subject was slightly less daunting than that of his hand.

Lux grinned feebly. "I'll relay the message to the rest of my body, see if it helps any. What's he been doing? Running you all till you drop?" Lux asked. "And when we drop, he gives us a firm taste of whacker. Something's seriously wrong with that dude, Lamar. I mean…Seriously," Maxell told him, with a rigid malodorous to his tone.

"You hadn't already noticed? He's a little peaked, Maxell, just a tad," Lux had noticed when he had been summoned to the general's office. The paintings of hunts and prey had pretty much screamed malicious madman. But perhaps that was only Lux.

"A tad? He gave Miry bruises! And nearly broke Cent's arm!" Maxell blurted, then quickly snapped his mouth shut, his face contorted into stubborn knowing of how much treason he had just spoken. "What?" Lux snapped. "He actually _hurts_ people? Not just a sting tap anymore?" he demanded.

Maxell shook his head, and Lux saw that his fists were bawled at his side. "Hit me five times, Lamar, on the back. I cried like a baby, but he only laughed. He _laughed_. I don't know what it is, he's always been creepy, and his eyes have always made him look…._Creepy_, but he's just gone off the edge or something," Maxell told Lux, leaning in closer. His wide and unblinking eyes held Lux's, silent fury bubbling in an already lukewarm pot.

"Have you told anybody else?" Arm and emptiness forgotten. Lux sat up, leaning in closer to whisper. No more was whacker as harmless-if not foreboding-as Yoda's cane. No, now he was _hurting_ people.

He was using it to abuse his power and Lux recognized the growing tyranny of an intimidator, and the higher levels of a boot camp that worked not for justice, but for the destruction of it.

_ Now that they've climbed higher, Sidious wants to pluck out the weak ones and instill fear in them,_ Lux's brain contemplated. "Who else is there to tell, Lamar? He's the _General,_ remember?" yes, it was rather hard to forget when that said general had bought your replacement arm. Lux nodded, thinking.

Suddenly, Maxell's eyes drained of their lividness and settled back into saddened sympathy. "I'm sorry, Lamar. Here I am complaining about a stupid whack down and you've lost an arm. I was in that class, remember?" Lux shook his head honestly. He did not remember, any of it, actually, and some of him was glad that much of that experience was a blur.

Where was his _real_ arm, anyway? For some reason, Lux suddenly had an urge to go see it, touch it, and discover if perhaps the feeling of his real hand would overthrow the feeling of emptiness from his heart. Was this how it was after Geonosis, for Anakin? Did he not remember a thing? Lux wondered.

"Oh," Maxell was saying, as Lux resurfaced from his gloom of thoughts. He had emerged from the fog, but he felt as if the fog was _inside _of him now, instead of the other way around. Neither experience was more pleasurable; he was coming to find.

"I guess…maybe that's for the best, huh?" Lux nodded again, unsure. He would like to remember when _exactly_ the fates had cursed him to feel empty forever. Then again, maybe the moment would have brought him unbearable, unspeakable pain. Even emptiness was a slight better option than outright pain in Lux's opinion, and this coming from one who had felt and known more pain than his fair share.

"I don't want to talk about this. The others. What do they say about general Damara?" Lux swapped topics, unwilling to let the _beating-_because apparently that was what it had become_-_ of his fellow cadets go uncharged.

It wasn't justice, and despite having to become something other than the very _entity_ of justice itself did not mean that he had abandoned righteousness altogether. No.

You didn't become a hero by picking and choosing the moments when you would do good and when you would not. Heroes revoked that choice when they took it upon themselves to do good in the first place.

"They say he is a barve, why?" Lux couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh, though his mouth perked up in a small, meaningless smile. Dear, dear, pathetically oblivious Maxell. The poor lad knew no better. "And you really should talk to somebody about it Lamar, I mean, you lost an arm," Maxell continued, sternly missing the whole point of Lux's attempt at _evasion of this subject_.

"I noticed," Lux replied grimly. He imagined that, in another life that seemed so long ago, and slightly ridiculous now, he would have asked Anakin, or Ahsoka.

For an unspecified reason, his heart lightened at this image; as if Anakin's advice would really,_ actually_ have done something for him. Thrusting those thoughts away, Lux returned to the present moment. Wasn't there some Jedi axiom about keeping your mind in the here and now?

"And, since you didn't get the memo before, I don't want to talk about it, Maxell. If you feel _any_ loyalty to me at all from what I did, at least grant me that wish," he snapped,-no, he _beseeched_- at his friend.

The harshness of his tone struck the older man dumb, and he bowed his head, partially ashamed for his ignorance to visible pain. "Right. Right, I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone," he muttered, his tentacles dropping in a gesture of guilt.

Lux felt pity stir somewhere that was empty; Maxell had only been trying to help. "No worries," he assured his friend. "But go on; tell me the real answer, old chap. What do they want to do about it? I can see you don't want to say it out loud but some things need to be spoken," if only the Jedi had told the senate that. Then maybe none of them would be in this current situation.

Though, Lux was not sure that he would not want to be in this situation.

Maxell looked up, and stared into Lux's eyes for a long time, searching with a quiet intimateness that left Lux feeling staggered and awkwardly violated. He wondered what Maxell had been looking for in his eyes, and if he had found it in good abundance.

Evidently, he had, for Maxell leaned forward, and as serious as Lux had ever seen him, whispered the truth. "Some of us are thinking of petitioning, some are thinking of writing to whoever may be above the general, and then _some_ of us," his eyes glittered dangerously. "Are thinking of mutiny," mutiny, huh? Sounded like fun, but violence was always the last resort.

_Then again, this may be what you need, Lux, to overthrow General Damara, he _contemplated thoughtfully. Deciding that not giving it a go was forsaking everything he had ever been….But he was not _that_ anymore.

Something stirred beneath the fog in Lux's heart, bringing with it an astonishing revelation, breathtaking in its simplicity. He had changed here. Become something either more or less, greater or weaker, stronger or lacking strength, but he had become something _different_.

Something that he found he liked more than what he had been. Just narrowly.

"Count me in. Mutiny sounds fun," despite the fact that it was betraying the man who had paid for his arm, given him a medal and paid a doctor to save his life.

Somehow, Lux felt no guilt, because this was also a man who had beaten down innocent people for small mistakes, a tyrant with a bloodlust for death and murder. Some voice deep down told him Intrepid would not have approved.

_Lux Bonteri, and the life he lived, are dead to me. _

* * *

I know so far I've basically mangled everything this family once stood for, but don't give up on me yet, guys! Remember when I said the story created me instead of the other way around? Well, I wasn't kidding. Somewhere between pages 200 and 210 the story decided to take on a life of its own and I didn't really get a choice from then on. Looking back at it now I still can't believe I wrote it, though I'm horribly proud of it. Don't fret for the future quite yet, though, I'll give you plenty of opportunity to do that later...

_~Queen Yoda. _


	33. A romp and a revelation

~Obi-wan's POV~

_ Alright, tomorrow I have to find a way to pay off those debts for the construction company. Then those floor plans, I'll have to take a look at those, make sure the poor chaps don't get the floors lopsided, that wouldn't be very satisfactory. Then those tickets to…Blast, what was that restaurants name again? Castle in the sky? Hocus-pocus? Alakazam? Something of that wretched nature? Oh, well, it will suffice. After that, I'll have to…_

"Brooding again, my love?" Obi-wan jumped, twisting around only to discover that in the time span of fifty odd seconds he had crouched into battle ready stance by instinct. That could be a fatal move, blast him!

Thankfully, it was merely Nava.

"Don't frighten me that way," He scolded, folding himself back into business professionalism. It was nearly the end of the day, the time when usually they would retire to bed, too exhausted to say anything but the three sacred words that they loved to utter, and fall deftly asleep.

He could not see her gaze, nor _her_ at all, really, but somehow Obi-wan felt his skin start to heat up. That gaze, the one he could not see, but he knew anyway, it was the gaze of a highly trained warrior who rivaled him in strength and cunning, fierce and dedicated.

And…Something else?

"You should always be ready for an attack," Nava retorted, walking into the small, private and isolated guest room that Obi-wan retreated too when he wanted peace and silence. He heard the click of the door being locked behind her. He was getting an increasingly bad feeling about this.

Slowly, he stood. He had been lying on the large bed, typing in things that seemed less important now, the curtain hanging about the fluffy space thin enough to be see through, and it fluttered when he touched it.

"I don't like the look in your eyes," he said. Nava stopped, or at least he hoped she did, and let out a small laugh. "You can't see my eyes, honey," she reminded him, all perfect, innocent housewife. Obi-wan was not a damned fool, thank you very much. He knew when to run and when to fight, and with Nava, the reasonable answer was _run_, every time.

She was the soft to balance out his hard, the shaft of the blade that helped aglow the tip, the moon that pulled the ocean, helping it sustain life and liberty. She was the table under his final verdict of law, and when you came face to face with the person who represented all that, and she was staring at you peculiarly, that was game time to _beat it._

"I can_ feel_ the way you're looking at me, dear," he quipped, impudently. Nava chuckled again. "Why do you look panic stricken?" She wondered. Obi-wan could have given her many reasons.

"At the moment? You're looking at me in a way I'm not sure I'll like, and I can't accurately_ see_ where you are," He added. He moved towards the closest means of shelter, which, of course, was the plump, petite chair that sat next to the bed. Maybe he could fling it in her general direction and run out the door.

Yes, good plan.

Wait, _horrible_ plan. What in the blazes was he thinking?

He was not thinking. He couldn't think very well with her in the same room, it just didn't work for him. She seemed to take up all the extra space in his head and then actual deep contemplation was just out of the question.

Like now. He could feel her getting closer. Accepting of whatever fate he had induced upon himself, he sank into the chair, looking up expectantly. "I've been thinking about you all day," oh, that was not good.

Very, very big problem. Where was Anakin when he needed the man? Wasn't he supposed to have his back? Currently the only thing that had his back was the chair, and due to the fact that the chair was hardly any opponent for Nava, he might as well have been on the edge of a dark abyss.

"Really?" he asked, cautiously. "Why does that sound like a threat?" She giggled, and he felt her lean down, over him, resting her palms on both armrests of his chair.

She was very threatening when she was breathing down his neck. Slowly, Obi-wan, not one to cower (much) below someone's direct stare, crept his arm back towards the bed's great compilation of pillows.

"Relax, _Mr. Aethra_, me and Mrs. Alwari were just…Talking today," Obi-wan nodded. Great, so this was a _planned _assassination? "Really? What about?" he asked. Nava fingered his collar. "Girl stuff," she clucked. She was invading his personal perimeter.

"Oh," the truth, painfully….Blatant, dawned on him. _"Oh,"_ he repeated, suddenly flushing some color he would never see again. The defense, it was in his hand, he could_ feel_ it, along with the itch of sweat starting along his collar. His breathing seemed to be having slight…Altercations.

"Ah, ha, ha. Um, what mood have these talks put you in, exactly?" He wondered, striving for calmness when there was a delicate finger stroking its way down his neck, circling a small vein, resting lightly over some small, tender, _ticklish_ place long enough for him to writhe under her touch before moving on.

"I don't know yet," Nava admitted, casually. Obi-wan slowly started pulling his chosen weapon back towards him. "I'm on the verge of something naughty, though lightheartedness is in there somewhere. You don't suppose we could forget the Code a moment?" That would be the last moment of his life, if his say were to be involved at all.

Obi-wan gulped as now the wicked woman ran a finger up his throat, stopping to rest lightly on his Adam's bobbing apple, then move on to poke his nose playfully. He still didn't trust her.

"Um, no, Nava, we can't. Not that it doesn't sound like a _galaxy_ of fun, but um…yes, well, Nava I really can't _concentrate _if you…Er…Um, yes, but…And…Ooh, that feels nice... Nava!" He growled with frustration.

"Hmm?" Came the inquiring voice that was currently running a hand up his arm, smoothing way his sleeves and blowing gently on the skin until goose bumps ran up and down his entire upper half. "Could you please stop that, or wait until later? Someone is bound to _hear_ us in here," he pointed out, stiffly. "Let them hear, and be jealous," Nava purred.

"Or revolted," Obi-wan disagreed. He put a hand on her shoulder, stilling all negotiation attempts. "Nava, darling, can't you wait until we're in our_ own_ bed? And what exactly do you women talk about that has you so riled? I'm an old fart, don't you want fresh meat?" He inquired, using Tyrion's words, not his.

"You still have your looks," Nava argued, kissing his hand. "I appreciate the compliment, but looks aside, you're going to break every scrap of self control that I possess, and I'd hate to send the clear message that Qui-gon taught me nothing," he tried.

_I taught you nothing if you're still talking, Padawan. Shut up and let the woman do what she does;_ came Qui-gon's very unhelpful response.

"Knave," he grumbled, to Nava's amusement. She laughed softly and kissed his forehead, making sure her breasts were mere centimeters away from his face. Blast, she was good. Force-forsaken flirt.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you leave me little choice," he sighed, the pillow was right there, and she had been so preoccupied with him that she hadn't noticed. "What do you…?"

_ Whack!_ Following this soft thump, and then Nava's muffled curse (she had a face full of pillow) he did a back flip out of the chair and proceeded to make a mad dash…Or, no, he made a _graceful retreat_ towards the door.

"Wait a minute! Where are you going?" How did she manage to catch up to him so fast? She must have split the time he took to get to the door in quarters. He stopped as the hand on his shoulder yanked him back. _Alright then,_ he decided. _Aggressive negotiations it is._

Taking a forbidden move, he used the force to pull a second pillow into his hand. Unluckily, Nava had had the same burst of inspiration from the force. The next few seconds were a blur, Obi-wan remembered laughing, and somehow the fluff of pillow was in his mouth when he came too and found himself on the ground, Nava straddling his waist and her hands pinning down his wrists.

He was sourly tempted to pout.

"No fair," he griped. "Pillows? _Really?_ You think no one will hear the pillows, either?" Nava demanded, she was panting lightly. "If you hadn't full out beaten me to the ground, maybe not," he retorted, hiding his real intentions, which was to pull out the playful side of Nava before she got both of them to passionate desire. He'd rather the staff walk in to find them in a pillow fight than…._That_.

He could feel her narrowing her eyes at him, calculating. Before she could figure out his real motive, he acted. Nava, by Jedi bred training and power, was almost as strong as three males put together.

Unfortunately, for her, by the same Jedi rule, Obi-wan was _stronger _than three males put together. So, it was relatively easy to snatch one of his wrists out of her grip, and push her off him. Once neatly extracted, he grabbed another pillow. This time, he fought to _win._

"_Barve_," Nava growled, her force signature leaping with battle competitiveness. "By definition, I'm afraid," Obi-wan responded, reflexively. Thinking on it, he must drive his opponents mad with his comments.

Nava laughed softly and neatly plucked a pillow from the ground, advancing. She spoke not, she knew he could not see her, and her voice would give her away. Force, now he_ really_ wished that he was not blind.

Mercy, apparently, was out of the picture. A second later, he rolled out of the way, _barely _skidding past the swift linen object that swished past his hair.

Ducking and rolling, he landed a secure hit to her knees, knocking her down. Victory was not close at hand, however, for she countered by giving him a reprimanding strike in the gut, knocking the sweet, useful air from him.

Force, if she could leave him breathless with a pillow, imagine what horrors she wrought on the poor villains with a _lightsaber_. He would most glad he was not her real foe; he might not have survived. He recovered from the jab quickly enough and did a front flip over what he assumed was her, jabbing repeatedly at her as he went.

Nava let out a laugh that sounded like she had been holding it in awhile. At the sound of her laugh, he laughed, too. "You haven't lost your stamina, Obi," Nava chuckled from behind him. He twisted, but she was too fast. She tackled him, and they resorted to wrestling on the ground, laughing both.

He took the compliment to heart. "Thank you, darling. Your cunning is my cruel match. What master of fate-design put us together, I wonder?" he was never going to get anywhere if they stayed in this position. She was on top again, their arms and legs intertwined in mangled and awkward positions.

"I already know," they rolled, and suddenly he was on top. "It's name is The Force. Hence Jedi philosophy. Have you forgotten?" She huffed, in jest, but in truth? He _had _forgotten.

Not about the force of course, it was rather hard when you used it to see things, but the devotedness he had once maintained, the Jedi Code he had sworn too, and once found impeccably easy to obey, now sounded like pure _tomfoolery_ to his out of form ears.

He felt little to no revulsion at this fact.

And that, if he remembered correctly, was not the man he had come to Courascant as. Was it for the better? He had no clue, and no Yoda to advise him. Was_ that_ for the better, too?

"Alright, this isn't normal," Nava giggled, as somehow they were suddenly in a giant cloud of fluffy pillow filling and she was on top, he was tired, panting and defeated and she was likewise. Nava rested on his chest limply, her arms flung out to rest on his own flung out appendages.

He gasped for breath, thinking that the time for pillow fights and wrestling matches on the floor probably had been out-lived twenty years ago. He also found he did not care.

"We aren't normal people," he agreed, merely, smiling up at the warm body he could only feel, not see, on top of him. Nava replied with a luxurious and long kiss. "Stubborn man," she rumbled when they broke apart, collapsing unto him again. She laid her head underneath his chin, her head tucked into his neck.

He laid a hand on her lower back and closed his eyes. She was his universe, and right now, the only thing that mattered was that his universe was here, safe in his arms and not on some blasted force-forsaken battlefield.

She was his, and he was hers. _This is the life I could have lived,_ he thought, then chuckled softly. He could have had the house the servants and the same schedule, yes, but never the people he loved.

He owed the Jedi _everything_, yet he felt no shame at all when he kissed Nava's forehead, whispering in her ear that he was defeated, and by the laws of war he was now at her complete mercy.

She ran a hand through his hair, murmuring something about knowing he'd come around sooner or later, and he felt only love and excitement as he rolled them so that he was on top, and started kissing her neck.

Here, and now, in this place and planet, Obi-wan Kenobi, and the life he had lived, meant nothing at all to him.

* * *

~Leia's POV~

Leia knew she was destined to be a Jedi. She had always known, even before Soka and Obi and trepid and fatha had begun telling them amazing stories. Before fatha had promised them their own lightsabers and their own place as Padawan's. She had known it, and so had Luke.

Suddenly, she did not want to be a Jedi anymore. Not if it did_ this_ to her.

She used to be able to feel love in the force, even if she hid her force signature, she could still feel the floating spectrum's of affection and love in the air.

In a way, love _was_ the force, or at least the side she used. It was full of love, honesty, compassion and life. She loved it, and it loved her in return.

Now, the floating spectrums of love were half whittled, worn down and stressed small rays from a sun that was departing from the sky. Before, Luke and she had taken comfort that small as the love was, and covered by some sort of malice that it was now coming to be, it was still_ there_.

It would never go away, it was too soothing a presence, but their parents avoided each other so much that there was no love to feel, since they were never _near _each other to feel the tingling warmth. Leia was not sure whether she preferred this to the booming shouts and the sound of things crashing.

Luke was across from her, sound asleep in his own bed, but Leia stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. She wanted things to be the way they had been before. She wanted them to be a family again, a big, _happy _family with the other Jedi and the pretty temple trepid always talked about, with that longing in her eyes.

She did not want to keep going to daycare, where her motha ruled with an iron fist, and she and Luke were left in the background while she helped and raised all the other kids.

She did not want Obi and Nava at that big building, even with all the nice desk ladies and spin chairs.

She did not want her motha to hang around with her rebel friends and Jiro all the time, even if it kept the house quiet and her motha obliviously happy.

She did not want her fatha to stay late at the shop almost every day, with Shantra alone to keep him company, even if it kept their parents from getting into an all-out verbal war and sending things flying at each other.

She did not want Soka, trepid and Lux-Lux…Wherever they were. She honestly had no clue, neither did fatha or motha. They did not care. They said they weren't _worried_, but in truth Leia knew that they had just stopped caring.

Not because they didn't love trepid and Soka and Lux-Lux, but because they were too busy being angry at each other and avoiding each other to care about anything besides themselves anymore.

Her fatha had ceased to be a Jedi, and her motha had ceased to be a senator. The others had ceased to be heroes, and so their family had been split apart.

Silently, Leia let out a sob and gripped her blanket in her hands, tears running down her cheeks. She didn't want to live here anymore.

_ Motha, you gotta come home and be here wit us._ _Why do you keep leaving_? Leia wondered, angrily. Why did they leave her, constantly? Why did everyone_ leave_ her? Even her father abandoned them for his missions, which they all knew might not guarantee he return. Did not they love_ her_ anymore? Enough to stop this; come back and stay?

_ This place is a curse! It's evil!_ She balled a fist and closed her eyes, shaking with wrath. Anger built within her, fear collided with the emotions, but Leia stuffed it down into a secluded place, awaiting another day.

She may have lost her family, but in the end, it was the Sith's fault, and Leia swore then to have her revenge against the Sith, and the bad man Sidious, and all of them for cursing her family with this place. They _took_ her family away from her. Loss was a heartbreaking serum for the strong, it seemed, because…

It seemed to her that Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala, and the lives they had lived, were dead to her parents now.


	34. Mutiny and friendship

**_Two days later:_**

~Anakin's POV~

"And how precisely did you get those? It costs more than our salaries to buy tickets to _The Flying Rotisserie_!" Shantra gasped, staring with broadened and slightly envious eyes at the tickets in her hand. Anakin grinned proudly, crossing his arms. "I know. How fancy is that place?" He asked.

"How…How_ fancy_? _The Flying Rotisserie_ is past fancy, you clout! It's for rich, famous, royal, totally-set-for- life people! How in the galaxy did you get these tickets?" She demanded, turning the gold invitations in her hands several times, gawking at the incandescent exterior and decorated print.

"A friend," Anakin replied neutrally. He could no more effectively lie to Shantra than he had once been able to do with Padme, so he told the truth.

_ What_ friend had given him the tickets, though, was his own business. Shantra, apparently, did not agree. She scowled at him dangerously, as if trying to decide whether she should murder him and steal the tickets without witnesses or not.

"There are two," she pointed out, hopefully. Anakin laughed and swiped the tickets back, lest she get it into her head to duck and run with his gifts, which had cost a particular Mr. and Mrs. Aethra a pretty penny. "I don't think so! The other is for Padme," he explained. Shantra's mouth dropped, and her eyes filled with indignant gamble.

"What? No! Can't we dress me up as the woman and pretend she's me?" That, again, made Anakin laugh. "You're blue," he reminded her. "And?" Shantra threw up her hands. "Nooo," she moaned. "I wanna go! This…Man, this is the chance of a lifetime, no one from our neighborhood gets to go there! I've never even been there! And the reviews are stupendously, ridiculously, marvelously off the kriffing charts! How can you….?" She suddenly came to a stop, interrupting a very comical rant that Anakin found he had been enjoying.

"What?" he asked. Shantra was staring at him with an odd visage in her eye, as if she had been working through a muddled and blurry puzzle, and had finally put the entire thing together.

"It's so obvious," she muttered. Alarm bells rang in Anakin's ear through the force. He eyed her warily, wondering at the reason for this disturbance.

"Shantra?" he asked, worriedly. "It all fits. You have used her name a few times before, too. Luke. Leia. Padme. And that scar over your eye…" he backed away; very afraid now, and unconsciously his hand strayed to his hip, where once an official item of his status had reigned.

But the item was gone, replaced by cloth made by the Empire. An exchange Anakin had made willingly, and had little to regret over. Until now.

"Shantra…" he began to say, and tell her what a ridiculous notion that was, and how _wild_ her imagination was, and how he _wished_ he were Anakin Skywalker, but he could never be a Jedi. All lies; and the remaining words never left his mouth, for he could never lie to Shantra, not in that way.

"You're Anakin Skywalker." Words sealing his imprisonment.

"Yes, I am." Words- _stupid_ words- sealing his death.

Shanta stood away from him, dashing back as if he were a mugger, here to steal all traces of valuables and virtue. She did not seem any more than shocked…And scared.

"But…But Ace-_Anakin-_ you…I thought…I should have…You are…" Anakin waited or a full sentence, glued to the spot. His heart hammered in his chest, yet he stayed where he was, eyeing her without blinking.

"What the _kriff_?" Shantra finally cried, throwing up her hands. Next to her leg, Artoo let out a rude grunt, angered by the noise, which had woken him from his hibernation. "I…" His throat closed up, and he clamped his mouth shut, glaring at this new threat to his friends, his children…To everything that represented his world.

This was one threat he was not sure he could just run over and fight to the death.

"I mean, I always sort of thought…Ever since I saw the scar," his hand shot over to the small scar running down his right eye. "But I never thought….Blast it all! What are you doing here?" That was a rhetorical question, right? Anakin did not believe so, because Shantra was staring at him as if he had mysteriously turned into a phantom.

"Hiding," he answered simply. There was no other way to describe it.

"On _Courascant_?" Shantra demanded, incredulously. "Apparently," his back wit did not inspire the usual blunder of indignation and shrewd remarks from her. She stared at him, hand closed over her mouth, as if he were a stranger. Anakin stayed where he was, desperate to explain, _what_ he had to explain was beyond him, though. She already knew the truth.

"Oh…Oh, stars above. You're a_ Jedi_. Not even just a Jedi, you're…You're Anakin Skywalker. I've been talking to a Jedi for…For like months. How do you survive it? There are Sith _everywhere,"_ Shantra gasped.

She seemed to be coming out of her shock. "Well, that's consequently everywhere you go," Anakin apologized, unknowing of what exactly he was apologizing to her for. He just felt the need to feel sorry for something.

"And everything you've told me…That's not…You were serious? You're actually like this?" Shantra dropped her hand, staring at him with a bit more of her old spark. Anakin grinned uneasily. He spread his arms, indicating himself. "This is me," he assured her.

Shantra stared, her eyes wide with surprise at his admittance. As If she had never thought a Jedi could be…her friend. Anakin did not know what to think of this consideration. "I…" Shantra put a hand behind her neck, studying him with thinly veiled curiosity.

"I…You…We…Padme…You know what? Never mind. So, will you give the tickets or should I try to snatch them and run?" She questioned. Anakin blinked, staggered by this reversal in subjects.

"You just now find out I'm a Jedi, wanted at a _hefty_ price by the Emperor, and thus putting you and this entire neighborhood in danger, and you're still worried about the _tickets_?" he demanded, shocked.

Seven years of war and meeting thousands of people had not diminished his capability to caress the familiar sensation of surprise, apparently. Not even a Jedi could learn all there was.

"Was there some other reaction you would have preferred?" Shantra wondered, cocking her head lightly, with some teasing, to the side. Her eyes glittered with sardonic humor. "No," Anakin admitted.

"Though, I thought your reaction would be more…I don't know… Memorable, perhaps?" This most definitely was not the word he had been balking for, but Shantra seemed to get the picture. She chuckled softly. "Oh? Why is that, master Jedi? Never met a sensible woman before?" She teased.

Anakin' s muscles went slack with relief, and he grabbed for the table at his side. "I have," he answered, grinning at his friend, this person who took his role as Jedi into no account whatsoever. Now that was true friend, and respect brimmed his heart, bringing with it brotherly affection.

"Once, but even her sensibilities have much to be desired lately. Thank you, Shantra," with that he bowed, almost as deeply as he would bow to Yoda, or Obi-wan, or some deeply respected, high ranking master of the Order.

She only laughed, and waved her hand dismissively. "Thank me not. Go out and have dinner at that fancy restaurant with your wife. I'll keep the twins busy tonight," she offered.

Anakin merely laughed. There was nothing more to do.

* * *

~Lux's POV~

The plan was simple. The plan, as in most other cases, was extremely idiotic and had a high probability of failing miserably, but it was also simple. Lux stood resolute, his arms crossed, his body extracted from his medical bed, despite the protestations of the doctor_. "You aren't fully healed yet! You'll be the death of your own self, you idiot boy!"_ The doctor had hissed, voice strained with anxiety and anger.

_ Then let me die,_ he thought, in a rare spark of kindled defiance. "Up! Run, martial! Up, cadets!" he called, hugging his chest limply, as if he were plainly being casual. In truth, he wondered if this were actually an unconscious attempt at protecting his aching heart.

He inhaled once. Twice. Smelt the pinching air of bitter dawn. Who in the blazes ever said sunrise was warm?

The sun rose behind them, stretching over the hills with womanly grace, manly energy, but elder patience. Lux had his back to it, watching as the other cadets ran through their obstacle course, running around a giant oval, which was equivalent to two miles.

Along the way, rails sprouted from the ground like random daises in a field of sunflowers. Jumping over these rods was the challenge. Bruised chins and lost pride was encountered if they ran into failure to meet this challenge.

Lux glanced at the extra padding over his metal arm. It cushioned the still tender flesh about his shoulder, and felt warm against the sensors in the metal. Somehow this fact was barely consoling.

Sighing, the rest of his protected and yet vulnerable body shivered. His breath hung in the air a bit after it came out, as if a parting gift; and Lux smiled feebly. If _he_ was cold, imagine the cadets, in mere shorts and sweaters.

He'd have to change that soon, they'd all die of hypothermia.

Suddenly, through the mist, a phantom of initial nightmarish intuition, the cold blooded lizard that they had been expecting waltzed into view. To Lux's imminent surprise, General Damara was not covered in head to toe in clothes, designed to insulate him.

After all, the blood that ran through his veins was cold, not warm. Despite this fact, The General walked out in the same close-fitting clothes he had always worn. The metals on his commander's coat shimmered with cold mist that had settled on them.

"Ah, Lamar. Up and about already? I thought you'd be bed-ridden for at least another three weeks," The lizard observed in a hiss, his reptilian eyes flicking subtly over the cadets. Whacker, polished to perfection, lay at her post under his arm professionally.

"I could not abandon my duties, sir," Lux replied, neutrally. _Force_, he hoped his plan worked. The cadets were starting to cease their running, coming up behind one another to eye the general with loathing.

He had their loyalty, their respect, now he hoped he deserved it.

"It would not be abandoning your duties, Lamar. Yo were injured, ad as you know,' he lowered his voice. "Darth Sidious does not regularly take wounded soldiers, but I have convinced him to see you in action before making his decision," Lux's skin crawled.

This mad man spoke to Sidious, _directly_? That was high status, and major importance. What had he done to gain such attention from the Sith murderer? No wonder there was a coldness to his eyes.

"Get to it! What are you laggards standing there gawping at?" The General suddenly snapped at the small ring of panting men and women. Lux jumped, startled by the unexpected boom.

He nodded at the horde. _Not yet._ With small nods, they obeyed, still staring at Damara as if they expected him to turn into something uglier than what he already was.

"So, sir," Lux addressed Damara, casually. "I hear you've been employing whacker to her full use," he glanced furtively at the long staff. "I remember feeling the iron thump when I was a cadet," _which was all of a few months ago. Have I really been Lamar Rai that long? Shouldn't I miss being Lux by now?_

"Rumors fly faster than light speed, I see. Even to the medical ward. Yes, I've had to be more forceful with my mere thumps. Teach them now what happens when they fail," came the grunt. The General spoke of it in the reverse tone that Maxell had.

General Damara said it as a final and wise fact, no more critical than accepting that it had rained on a day where you had expected to venture to the beach. Maxell's voice had been pinched with prideful rage, dignified fearlessness. _Which one is better?_

"The punishments will become worse, the higher up they go on the chain," Lux agreed, emotionless. The general chuckled softly, his forked tongue flickering, and put a large, scaled hand on Lux's shoulder, in an almost fatherly way. "You will be a fine leader one day, Lamar," he said. "I appreciate that, general," _more than you know. I'll have to be a __**great **__leader in a moment. _

"Sir? May I ask you something?" He wondered, innocent for all the mercilessness he planned inside. He felt no dispute over whether it was right or not. "Ask away, my friend," friend? Lux would rather _die_ than be considered this thing's friend. "Do you carry weapons on your person at all times?" he asked.

This question as met with dumbfounded silence. "I say," the hand on his shoulder slouched off, and though Lux was not looking up, he could feel two large, circular eyes glaring down at him with suspicion. "Why would you ask me that, Lamar?" The general wondered himself, his voice dropping into a low, venomous tone.

Lux shrugged, watching the cadets He raised his brows at Cent, and his friend stopped, brining five more people to a halt behind him. They pretended to double over in exhaustion. "Curiosity, sir," came his eloquent and simple reply. More cadets line up.

_Just answer my question already, please commander barve_, Lux internally pleads. General Damara eyed him another thirty seconds before shrugging himself, his eyes on Lux and not the twenty or so cadets that had all doubled over in front of them.

Really, how did he _not_ notice something of that nature? Lux wondered if perhaps the general had actually noticed. His body stiffened at the prospect of the fight this may ensue.

He was willing to fight to the death anyway, if it was what must happen.

""Yes, I do," simple as that. There went their pleasantly simple plan. "May I see it, sir?" he asked, as delighted with this as he needed to be. The general seemed more than happy to show him the weapon he could use to kill anyone any second now. Almost as if he were showing off a very important turtle to a classmate.

"It's the new edition," was that his voice? Lux had not heard the pride tine before. It made the General seem less like the monster he was, and more like a person. That was making this harder, then. "B 29-3-0?" Lux asked, taking the small yet heavy blaster into his arms.

"The rotating kind," the General added. Wonderful, so it was a type of machine gun, for mass murder, no less. And why would an instructor for a cadet's camp need a mass murder weapon? Unless he planned on mass murdering…

The cadets. The ones who did not make it into Sidious's high ranks, the ones who weren't strong enough, or who quit early. They would not walk away alive.

This was a mass murder weapon, a weapon used against the individuals who weren't as cruel and vindictive as General Damara.

This thought, as disgusting and-totally, horribly_ believable_ for General Damara- spurred Lux on to make his next move. "I'd appreciate it if you came willingly, sir, but if not," the hunter became the prey, and suddenly there was a blaster-his own blaster, ironically- pointed at General Damara's head.

A second later, the cadets sprang into action. Poised, dignified and calm Damara was suddenly surrounded by his own pupils, glaring and at any signal from Lux, ready to laden him with stun bolts. It wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt sure as heck. The blaster Lux currently had pointed at his skull, though; he assumed _that _might hurt.

"Then we are prepared to take extra measures," he added. Damara stared at him, in the exact same position he had been in before. Lux assumed he had not moved nor spoken because he was stunned through the bones.

An uprising, how the overconfident never saw it coming; the downfall of many a leader, was mutiny. He had used Whacker to promote fear, but never taken into account the emotion that often accompanied fear, which was desperation.

They were not desperate enough to kill him in cold blood. Lux hoped so anyway, many of the cadets had their fingers pushing lightly down on their triggers already. "What…" General Damara nearly shrieked. "What is the meaning of this…This sedition!?" He bellowed. Lux cocked an eyebrow; he had supposed that it would be fairly clear.

"You're being denounced from duty sir," he replied, neutrally. "What! This…This is idiotic! How do you suppose the other instructors will take to this?" That was a pretty good point, though Lux did not consider himself stupid at all. "They're watching from the windows," Maxell pointed out, amusedly.

General Damara swiveled around to look at the building a few feet away. Indeed, the other instructors, the others who had been promoted to higher status with Lux, were waving from the windows. The General's mouth did a very unseemly drop. "You-you…_Traitors_!" he spat at them, then at Lux.

"Just make it easier on yourself, sir, and submit," before the cadets blast out your intestines. The General glared down at him, eyes hinting at livid rage. "_You_, Rai. I should have known you'd be a traitor. You will rue this day," he growled. Lux opened his mouth, none too apologetic for his treachery and about to inform Damara of this, when the lizard acted.

Lux had taken into account his weaknesses, but not his strengths. One of which is physical. With a speed that was incalculable, The General twirled Whacker around in a full circle with enormous strength, knocking away each of his opponents…

Except for Lux, who had spent enough time in the battlefield to have mildly better instincts than his comrade's. He had managed to dive to the ground before Whacker pummeled his stomach like the others, leaving them on the ground gasping.

He was on his stomach, and looked up to see the General running back towards the building. What he intended to do was none of Lux's concern. He still had the blaster, and it was loaded still. He cocked it up, closed one eye, and prepared to blast.

_ "We can be great friends, Lamar Rai,"_

_ "Crime does not follow your clock, maggot,"_

_ "What do you mean; something great?"_

_ "You will be a fine leader one day, Lamar,"_

Lux should not have felt all emotion leave him, he should have felt _something,_ when General Damara fell, his own weapon used against him. He landed with a thud, Whacker flew out of his hand, twisted in the air, and landed with the same dull sound, and the cadets let out weak and rasping cheers. Lux only stared at the dead body without revulsion, without victory, pride, sadness or sympathy. He felt nothing.


	35. Angsty ignorance

~Nava's POV~

"Force," she gasped aloud, despite the fact that Jedi were the main ones who used this as a statement of shock. Shock, anger, and terror. These were the things Sith spread, but why, blast _why _would someone do this? How could a Jedi, once light, watch this catastrophe and live with himself? How could Dooku do this?

Mrs. Alwari, next to her, gasped and covered her mouth, suddenly turning to her husband. The usually jovial and tough exterior of Courascant's richest man was gone.

His chin was tipped up, as if he could defy _death_, force sakes, and his eyes shined with glossy tears that he kept in through a quivering lip.

Nava watched the screen, emotionless. She wondered if anyone else could feel the death in the force, so large a presence was it in her heart. The absolute destruction of lives. How could people assume _Anakin Skywalker_, of all people, would do such a thing? Even if he did fall. This was…This was inexplicable.

Who could do such a thing?

On the screen before her laid the tattered remains of a village Nava had dared not record in her mind, because someday she might go here, and she did not want the mark of this violence on her mind if she ever did. _Hundreds_ upon hundreds of bodies, some half buried in the dirt, most others at large, vulnerable to the buzzards.

Biological warfare, diseases that killed slowly and painfully, put to use on a nonaligned planet. It had been neutral since the Clone wars. It had provided no threat to the Empire.

Heck, most people did not even _know_ about it, such was the planet's neutrality. In addition, Sidious had ordered it annihilated by his newest pet, Anakin's clone.

Vader did his work well, because the screen only gave a small, disillusioned view of the real massacre. Most of them had probably been gasping for death when Vader stabbed them through the heart. The rest of the planet probably, would become slaves to the Sith.

Or they would face the peril of their capital city. Nava had seen it, and she closed her eyes against it as the room fell into silence. The maids, attendants and others behind her, also staring open-mouthed at the regular broadcasts the Sith allowed through, said not a word. Nothing could be said.  
Nothing would be said. This was what the reign of Sith did.

That is what had become of their galaxy. And it was all because of them.

* * *

~Padme's POV~

Padme really, in all honesty, needed to stop taking so much time in the kriffing bathroom. Truly, Jiro would probably think she looked exquisite if she wore a gown made of old and foul rags. He'd compliment her anyway, because that was just how Jiro was.

He wouldn't demand why in the universe she decided to wear _rags_, instead of that pretty purple dress _he_ liked or was that her real hair or a wig because it looked like a wig. That was what Anakin would do, had done, and probably would continue to do.

It was just the way he was; if a person was not dirt poor or a slave; he saw no reason why they could not at least look presentable. He inherited that notion from Obi-wan.

But Jiro understood what it was like to just…Want to look scrappy one day. To let down your hair, fuzz it up a bit, stuff on some slippers and become a complete and utter couch potato because you had been a celebrity too long.

Nevertheless, she didn't actually plan on going in rags, no. In fact, she could not decide _what _dress she wanted to wear to dinner with him tonight. She had already done her make-up, spent two hours on her hair, and now she was staring at the seventeenth dress she had tried on that hour.

She felt like a teenager again, that stupid, silly girl who spent hours upon hours in the bathroom trying to decide what to wear to prom night with her Boyfriend. Honestly, was not she just a bit too mature for this?

No. No she was not.

Padme did not have such extravagant dresses as she had once worn to senate balls, and honestly, she wished she at least had _one_ left. Something…Black. That was his favorite color, black. He said it reminded him of the nights he had spent fishing for glowworms with his father. A positive out-look on a stereotyped negative color.

Hungrily, Padme fished out one of the dresses she had glanced at and moved on. She had no clue where they were even going, Jiro had meant for it to be a surprise, and as such only insisted that he come pick her up and whisk her away. Maybe it wasn't cause for some fancy, elaborate dress like this black one…

Padme did not care.

Studying herself in the mirror, she noticed that the dress _did_ bring out some of her otherwise unnoticeable zaftig. And it was strapless, except for one tiny string that went across her left shoulder, blood red for some reason, but still… "Page!" Blast, it was _him_. Lately, they had been avoiding each other.

Padme sighed and picked up her dresses, straying from out of the perfumed fresher and back into their room. A second later, Anakin burst into the room, work clothes still intact.

His eyes swept the place quickly, and promptly, as if looking for hiding Sith. Padme had once thought this was mere habit. Now she suspected he did it because he associated her with the idea of Sith.

"Yes?" she asked, patiently, as she set the dresses down on the bed and hurriedly snatched her purse. Thankfully it was white, a neutral color. It would go well with anything. Anakin opened his mouth, but upon seeing her dressed as she was, his brows furrowed. Here they go again.

"Why are you dressed like that? And when did you get a black dress?" He demanded. "I'm going out tonight. And don't worry, I used _my _own money," she assured him, ready to sweep out the door.

At the subtle reminder of her having a _job,_ he scowled. "But…" he began. Padme was really in no mood to hear it. She glanced out the window to see a speeder roll up. Jiro.

"Don't wait up for me," not that he ever did, but she thought it courteous to say anyway. No reason why they couldn't be mildly civil. Yet.

"I'll be back later. Bye," before he could say anything more, she zipped out of the room and downstairs. "But I..." Anakin called after her, his eyes flashing. He was determined to make himself heard. Great, let the neighbors hear him. Padme had a dinner to go out too.

"Twins, I'm going! Love you!" She called over him, as the door opened. "Love you too!" Came the unified response. "Pad-" She closed the door.

* * *

Whoo, thanks to all my reviewers and readers out there! It's good to know I'm writing for someone. Nevertheless, to everyone who currently hates Padme, get ready to hate Anakin because his turn is next.

~Queen Yoda


	36. Defeat

**_Later:_**

~Anakin's POV~

"Oh. My. _Gosh_. We're here! Look at this place!" Shantra gasped, pulling at his arm the second they were actually close enough to the door so that she could see inside.

Anakin, tired of waiting for an hour just to get this close to the door in line, turned from his _fascinating _conversation to an old miner from Ord Cestus to look inside at the Flying Rotisserie.

He cocked his eyebrows, he certainly had been to some fancy places, but Shantra had been right, this was not just fancy, this was a place for rich, famous, royal, totally-set-for- life people. No wonder Obi-wan had managed to get him the tickets so fast, and without much squabble.

Inside, the theme was apparently silver and blue, for the curtains, walls, and utensils were all these two colors, unsullied and bold. Giant windows were ahead, at the far side of the room, and let in the sight of the twinkling lights of Courascant, five stories below.

Indigo curtains framed this magnificent view, along with a small band, all strumming neatly on their stringed instruments. Hundreds of tables, with pure, _shining _silver tables, were put into flawless rows, filled with people who were dressed much more extravagantly than they were. The _waiters _were even dressed better, which irked Anakin lightly.

They waltzed across the polished marble floors with debonair, noses stuck high while they delivered very tasty smelling food to their guests. Anakin assumed he had arrived in restaurant paradise. He nodded approvingly, though eyed the chandelier, speculative.

He wondered if, as a parting gift, Shantra would be overly mad if he '_accidentally'_ broke that. Just because everyone looked so smug.

"Do you think you can break that chandelier up there? Just because everyone looks so smug?" Shantra inquired, in a whisper as she leaned in. Anakin stifled a laugh. "We're on the same page," he assured his friend, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Speaking of Page, You never told me why she isn't the guest here with you tonight," Shantra added, flippantly. "She had other things to do," Anakin answered, his tone expressionless. Shantra looked up, studying his face for a long time, before nodding.

"I see. Well, thank you for inviting me, then. Didn't you say something about a pod-race later?" She asked. Anakin was glad she had remembered.

"Yep. I left the Twins with," he trailed off, raising his eyebrows at her. Shantra, now that she knew his true identity, had been trustworthy enough to be indulged with the secret identities and locations of his friends.

He trusted her with his _life._ His raised eyebrows meant Obi-wan. She nodded in understanding. "Tonight. Never told him that I wasn't going out with Padme, per se. He doesn't exactly know that we've stopped talking to each other. And I'd rather he not know," he confided in her, as they stepped closer to the front table, where a well-dressed man took their tickets.

"He'd disapprove?" She asked. Anakin smiled and nodded. "Some things, not even my big brother can help me with," he agreed. Shantra nodded, again in understanding (had anyone understood him as often and well as she did?)

"So they'll be with him all night. The intergalactic pod-racing championship is coming out on the holo-vision tonight. I thought when we got back, we could sit down and bet who wins," he suggested. Her eyes lit up. "Lid Gerashai will be the winner and you know it!" She hissed.

"I know no such thing," he hissed back, glancing about. They really should not be talking about an illegal sport inside of the Flying Rotisserie. It wasn't proper.

"Oh, right, we're in proper people's land now. We have to be high and mighty," Shantra giggled. Anakin chuckled softly. "We already are, Shantra. By the way, you look like an absolute vagabond tonight," he teased.

In truth, she looked nice. She was wearing a chocolate colored dress, to compliment her blue skin and lavender hair, which was tied into a neat bun behind her head, with a curly bang trickling down the side of her face prettily.

Long legs sprouted from under the knee-length dress. It was not as marvelous as some of the other woman he saw seated inside, but the beaming brightness on Shantra's face made up for that.

Besides, she was Shantra. His dirty and scuffed black suit didn't help matters. It set off his jet-black hair. He looked nice enough for Shantra, who glanced him over once, sniffed, and declared: "you look like a bandit," she scoffed. "I've never seen a bandit this well-dressed!" Anakin argued lightheartedly, glancing around at the stoic faced recipients.

Shantra, doing the same, made a face at a small boy sitting at a table a ways away. He giggled. "A _Ninja_ bandit," she added, severely, over her shoulder. Anakin laughed. "You look like a reprobate," he muttered back, listening to the peaceful music.

This scene rather suited Obi-wan, more than him; but he would not just _waste _the tickets. Besides, it felt good to do something to repay Shantra for her kindnesses.

"A what?" Shantra asked, glancing at him from where she was looking ahead. "I don't know. Page called me it once," he whispered from behind her. He puffed out his eyes at a woman who glared at him as if he were a scalawag she did not trust.

"Stop that!" Shantra hissed at him, sounding on the verge of laughter. "You're going to get us kicked out while we're still in line!" She told him, sounding for all the universe like she wanted to laugh.

"So? I'll go kicking and screaming. Or I'll throw something at the chandelier and then run when it breaks," he scoffed. Shantra bit her bottom lip. "Come back later and knock out the cooks, so we can steal the food," she agreed, Anakin bit back a cackle.

"Wait, wait, I've got one. What if we just ran out of the kitchen yelling like banshees and pulling down those fancy pants the waiters have?" he suggested. Shantra glanced at the said pants of idea, and her mouth twitched.

"You know what I want to do? I want to go up to that lady sitting right there glaring at us, and start eating the food off her plate in front of her. And then when she turns to say something, I'll spit the food out at her and yell 'ugh, this is nasty!'" She told him. Anakin had to hold his stomach to ease the pain of keeping in his laughter.

"What if we just went around taking all this expensive stuff in a shopping cart, like this is a grocery store?" He suggested. "Or, oh gosh, what if we blow on that man's fake beard until it falls off and then we steal it and run?" She countered, giggling a bit. They both burst into quiet cackles.

"Oh. Oh, we are so stupid. We're too old to be thinking this way," Shantra giggled, swiping away a tear. Anakin nodded. "Force, oh thank goodness master isn't here to see me this way. He'd lecture me until my dying day, and beyond," he chuckled. "This is not Jedi-like!" Shantra agreed, in a fierce whisper.

"What _really_ wouldn't be Jedi-like is if Yoda burst in here and started spinning on his head with the musicians," he corrected. "Has he actually done that?" Shantra gasped.

"In another life, in another time, like two hundred years ago, I wouldn't put it past the eccentric old troll," Anakin chuckled, as finally they came to the stand themselves.

"Good morning," Shantra chirped, instinctively. Anakin's mouth twitched as the waiter gave her an odd look. "It's not morning Shantra," he pointed out. "Hello," Shantra corrected herself, without skipping a beat. Anakin chuckled softly, intent on teasing her later for that. "Your tickets, please," The waiter sighed, as if already he was sick and tired of them.

Anakin handed him his gold tickets. The waiter's eyebrows shot up, obviously at the gold exterior, which was worth _thousands _of credits. He glanced back at them, in their modest clothing, then at the tickets, scratching his head. Anakin bristled, feeling the old sting of injustice.

Shantra seemed to sense his discomfort, and laid a comforting hand on his arm. "Is there a problem?" She inquired smoothly. "Er…No, no, they're authentic, I was only…" he glanced up again, and at the sight of Anakin's stormy look, quickly stamped the tickets and handed them their menus. "Please, enjoy your meal," he hastened to say.

"We _will,"_ Anakin, declaimed, happily, as he and Shantra walked into the full restaurant. "Where should we sit? I see a deck out there," he pointed out, Shantra nodded.

"It's a bit chilly, though. I say we sit in the in one of the corner tables, just to get the full experience," by that she meant so they would be far enough away from everyone else to speak freely. He did not doubt she had a whole load of questions about his Jedi life, and bragging was a natural skill for him.

"I agree. Come on, let's…" Anakin was not quite sure what caught his attention. Perhaps it was a warning from the force. Perhaps it was the war-bred instinct that something was immediately, desperately wrong, maybe it was a combination of those two things. He had no clue.

What he had a clue about-really, too much of a clue- was that the woman who had just walked into the room as he turned, was, indeed, Padme Amidala. Or, as she was known here, Page Abner. _His_ wife.

She was in that black dress she had been in earlier, when she brushed him off like a pathetic dog, and even better, her arm was looped through another person's. Not even a woman.

He had foolishly assumed it would be a woman she was going out with. Why would he think that? Why would Padme dress up like that if she were planning on getting a drink with Nava?

No, it was a _man_. A very handsome man with fuzz on his upper lip that gave him a wise edge, red-orange fire on his head that Anakin was sincerely wishing would burn his brains out by now, and very expensive and nice-looking suite, undeniably better than his.

Shock hit him, in the gut, at the same time that panicked jealousy blasted him in the heart. Padme had her eyes closed, and she was grinning as the man leaned in to whisper something to her. The force around him, it was wrong.

It was wrong in a way that Anakin refused to think was his own clouded emotions. This…This…This _person_, whose lips were way too kriffing close to Padme's ear, had a force signature not of darkness, and not even of light. It felt like most other non-force sensitives.

Spattered with mistakes, and flaws, yet glowing with honorable intentions. This imposter had no right intentions. He just had the stains on top of whatever light was underneath. Anakin wanted to kill him, Padme and himself all at the same time. He was so _stupid_.

"Alright," he heard this blasted…Personification of all things evil and vile and completely dishonorable say to his field of flowers, his angel. "You can look now," he said, as they walk past the man at the counter.

Padme opened her eyes, and let out a small shriek of delight, her eyes lighting up in a way that made his gut roll, when her eyes took in the scene. "The Flying Rotisserie? Jiro, this is incredible! I'm speechless!"

When did Anakin start walking? Because right now, he was walking. _Charging,_ more of, towards the couple standing by the door, arms still linked, Jiro still grinning down at Padme with that man's possession in his eye. Smug, kind, he chuckled at her face, split in two by an enormous grin Anakin had not seen in months.

He did not hear a thing but his own heartbeat, pumping against his ears. _Who is this? What are you doing here with him?_ He yelled, in his mind. He only kept walking, stopping occasionally to let a waiter pass by, or another couple looking for seating.

So close…He would _rip _the head off this man's shoulders and stuff it down the deepest, darkest, most _vile_ hole in the….

"Oh, Jiro, thank you! This is just what I needed!" Without further ado, Padme threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him square on the cheek. Yep, well, that heart thingy that had been beating in Anakin's chest not even twenty seconds ago? It's dead. It died.

With it, went Anakin. He stopped, dead in his tracks, breath leaving his lungs in a long whoosh, not even twelve feet away.

It wasn't…It wasn't even a brief kiss on the cheek like she would have given Bail, or like she would give Lux or Obi-wan or something, that was a quick tap of affection, a tender way to greet someone. Politicians used it often. He was used to it. He was forced to do it too.

But this…_That_…It was long. She was _still_ kissing his cheek, even though he had turned as red as his hair, and Anakin wondered if a delicate tongue had flicked out to touch his cheek.

_No. NO. Force, kill me, kill me now. Just do it._ He thought staggering backwards into the waiting form of Shantra, who had seen the spectacle.

She grabbed his arm and hauled him after to her to the corner. Anakin wasn't breathing. _Take me. Kill me. That didn't just happen. Is she still at it?_ He turned to look, but Shantra grumbled something about him having to keep moving, not looking back, and tugged harder.

Anakin jerked after her, and let her force him to sit down at a table. She knelt beside him, large yellow eyes worried. "Was that…?" She asked softly. Anakin nodded emphatically. So, she saw it too?

"And she…?" He Sighed. "And…" She glanced over his shoulder. "She's still at it. Ouch," she said with a cringe. Ouch? _Ouch_? His heart felt much worse than just ouch. It felt like sting, burn, destroy, death, despair, horror, jealousy, _rage_.

Oh, and defeat.

He felt his shoulders slump. "Please, can we…Can we just _go_?" He asked and it does not escape his attention that he sounds utterly, completely defeated, so unlike he was on the battlefield. He could take wartime defeat, but this…He didn't even know what this _was_.

He just felt like he had lost something, without even losing to death, or even a declaration. After all, she had only kissed the other male on the cheek, but Anakin still felt betrayed, like she was already gone, had already been taken from under his nose and now…Now he was just seeing what _exactly _he had lost while his head was turned.

Shantra should understand. She always did. She should agree that they leave, immediately, tickets aside, but no. She squared her shoulders, set her jaw, her eyes flame with hurt and anger on Anakin's behalf -for had not he told her of his love for Padme?

Hadn't he poured out to her how much he was terribly and irrevocably in love with this woman?- and grabbed his arm tightly. "No," she decided, with finality.

That shocked him more than Padme. "No?" he echoed. "No," Shantra said again, with even more conviction. She glared at Padme, her eyes narrowing, calculating. "Girls stick together," she explained, mercilessly.

"I've been on her side until now. Now, I'm going to end this before it begins. I am going to make that woman fall helplessly in love with you again if it _kills_ me," she sounded so much like a Jedi, so full of determination and_ wrath_, that Anakin almost mumbled, "yes, master."

He sat up. "What's your idea?" he asked, hesitantly. He did not like the spark in her eye. It was something other than the fun-loving, jovial Shantra he was used to. Now-now she was _serious_, and as deadly as an adder.

"Nothing-and I mean _nothing_, drives a woman more irate than jealousy. It will make sisters stab each other in the heart. It will make mothers poison their daughters. It's the sick reality of chitchat and narcissism," she told him this vital, and somewhat debatable confliction.

"So, we're on a date," she planned. _"Us?"_ Anakin repeated, confusedly. "Yes, us, clout head. You pretend to like me, Padme will show up, see this, and get jealous, you with me?" Anakin nodded. "Yes, but I don't think…" She interrupted him.

"She'll probably attempt to tell me off, you pretend to be impressed and by night's end she'll be convinced she won you back in her word's arts, and she'll cart you away as possessively as a squirrel with a mouthful of nuts," she said. Anakin sighed.

"Shantra, this is _not_ some dramatic soap opera. We're adults. This idea of yours is ridiculous, and frankly silly," he began. "Do you want Padme back or not?" Oh, he did, he so blasted _did_. Anakin looked behind him, where Padme and Jiro were searching out a table, laughing joyfully.

His heart flickered with fire, and he turned back to Shantra. "Let's do it," he agreed.

* * *

~Padme's POV~

Padme had been to the _Flying Rotisserie_ once before. It had been a Birthday gift from Bail and Mon Mothma one year, while her heart was heavy from having Anakin away.

She had absolutely adored it then, and could not wait to smell the fresh seafood, the warm and crumbly rolls, or the sweet wine…Her mouth watered hungrily.

And the fact that she was having dinner with a favored friend was nice, too. She walked, her arm through Jiro's through the restaurant, enjoying the feeling of everyone's eyes on her as she passed, in her dress, and on Jiro, their heads held high.

Their opinion did not matter to Padme, and in another life, one she had outgrown a few short months before; she would have been revolted at herself for her love of this attention.

Attention she had not felt in a long time. She was a senator, a queen that had given time, blood, sweat and tears to help save these people, she deserved their attention, if only for a moment. She was only human.

She would accept nothing less.

Then she heard it. Or, rather,_ him_. Anakin. His laugh. She had not heard his laugh in so long….It made her heart lift, just a second.

Then Padme looked over, and saw who exactly was sitting beside her husband. That heart that had just lifted a second ago? It died. It's dead.

The second Padme saw_ them_; it just stopped. She stared at the woman-Shantra, again?- As she sat at the side of her Ani, laughing as she doted on his every word like some sort of pigeon.

And Anakin-her Anakin, notably- was puffed and preening as a rooster. Padme's face burned with rage. "Page? What are you….? Oh, you didn't tell me Ace was coming here," Jiro exclaimed, surprised. "I didn't know," Padme replied, tightly.

_How did he even afford the tickets? Why didn't he tell me? Why did he invite her, unless there is something going on between them_? No, Anakin would never disrespect her that way, despite their problems, would he? It…It was just implausible to her.

_He's mine. Oh, blast it I can't lose him, not like this. Death, betrayal, even if he didn't love me anymore. I can't let him go, not without the fight. I will fight and die for him. You can't….You can't just __**take**__ him from under my nose! _ Just in case, though…

"We should sit with them," she suggested, lightly. "If you think it best, I guess…Wow!" Padme grabbed his arm and hauled him, none too gently, on her heels to the table.

If she guessed it was best? She knew it was best! She had to bring him back, she had to…Had to…Prove _something_-anything-in order for him to see the love inside of her heart.

She needed him.

"Hello," she chirped, when they were close enough to the table. Anakin chuckled at something Shantra had said, looked up, and when he saw her, his head cocked. "Hello, Page," he replied, casually. His eyes flicked to Jiro, and some emotion stirred in his pupils, but vanished before Padme could see it fully.

"Ah," Shantra said. "So _you're_ the notorious Page Abner. Well met. Please, come sit with us," Padme had been about to seat herself anyway, but nodded as Jiro pulled out a seat for her.

She sat across from them, tucking her dress in and settling herself firmly. Jiro took the seat beside her. "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?" Padme asked, conversationally.

"This is my friend, Shantra," Anakin replied, in the same tone. "I'm surprised we haven't come across each other before, Page, I've met everyone but you so far," Shantra remarked, his eyes locked unto Padme's with something like a challenge. Padme met her gaze silently, making her point clear.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ace," Jiro began, cordially, to Anakin, who watched him with hard yet thoughtful eyes. Padme surveyed Shantra, who sat there, slowly stroking Anakin's palm with her thumb. He did not seem to notice.

"Page has spoken much of you," he said, his eyes twinkling to finally be speaking to Anakin Skywalker. "Interesting," Anakin observed, glancing at her. "Page has said _nothing_ of you," he said. Padme pretended not to have heard that. Anakin leaned back in his seat.

"Shantra and I were merely discussing a common sport. Tell me, how did you two come to be here?" he asked. "How did _you_?" Padme piped up, in accidental challenge. She did not want to fight, not now, but did he really have to let Shantra stroke his palm? Was it necessary?

Was he trying to break her heart? Because Padme was not breathing, not much. She was more of lightly panting. She wanted it back to the way things were; when she felt safe in his presence, when she laughed just because he laughed. When there was no Shantra, no Jiro, no Sith, just them and their forbidden love and their beautiful twins.

Anakin narrowed his eyes at her.

"I've been saving up," Jiro assured them, jovially. He cast her an assuring glance, and she settled. "I thought it'd be a nice treat for her," he did not specify. Anakin nodded and crossed his arms.

"I see," he remarked. "So what sport were you two discussing?" Padme inquired, politely, still wondering _whom_ Anakin had cheated to get money to arrive here. Anakin and Shantra exchanged glances. Padme did not like those glances; she sipped her water, waiting.

Anakin cleared his throat. "Pod-racing," he admitted. Padme choked. Jiro's eyebrows shot up. "Isn't that illegal?" He croaked. "On some planets," Anakin stated, mildly. "But the laws do not dictate whether something is wrong or not, now do they?" Shantra added. Padme wondered if this women were insane. "Yes they do!" Padme gasped.

"Do not," Shantra scoffed. "They just tell us what rules we have to follow," Padme, who had never encountered such blatant fantasies, gawked. Jiro cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Laws and rules insure order," he pointed out, kindly.

"They do, and they are essential," Shantra agreed. "But that doesn't mean they're always right. Pod-racing is a perfectly principled sport. I won the Pantoran competition when I was twelve," she boasted. "She pulled off a move I still can't do," Anakin admitted, his eyes gleaming as he glanced down at her smug form. Padme shook her head slowly.

"That's impressive," Jiro said lightly. "Are you the youngest to do so, then?" He inquired. Padme saw the small vein in his neck twitch, with either irritation at her boasting or disregard for their chosen profession. He had not even met any_ real_ critics yet. Shantra was polite compared to them.

"No. That prize goes to that Jedi everyone thinks is a traitor nowadays. Anakin beat me at nine, the conqueror," she harrumphed. Padme glanced at Anakin, and offered him a small smile of congratulation. He ignored it, instead clasping Shantra's shoulder.

"Some defeats are just inevitable, old friend," he snorted. "Whatever. You still can't beat me in pod-racing simulations!" Shantra laughed, slapping away his hand. Anakin winked at her and chuckled. "So," Padme began again, quickly, just to take Anakin's attention off Shantra.

"Didn't that Jedi have a wife, too?" Shantra intervened, interrupting her curtly. She was looking at Anakin, who shrugged. "I think so," he replied. Padme glared, _daring _him to try this.

He dared. "What was her name again? Amidala something?" Shantra asked; with no real interest. Padme opened her mouth, ready to correct, but Anakin beat her to the jibe.

"No, it went something like Shaka-laka-laka, or something of that nature," he said. Padme blanched. Jiro gasped lightly in his drink, and thus coughed it back up. "Don't choke there, fellow," Anakin remarked, sounding very much like he did not mean it.

Shantra burst into laughter. "That is_ not_ her name!"She sputtered, leaning on his shoulder as she laughed. Anakin chuckled lightly with her and shook his head.

"It went something like that. You know those politician types always have long names, or simple ones. She couldn't just stick with Bertha or Ruth. Pretty names, them. She had to go all out," he snorted.

Padme wondered if he was aware that she was right there. Even if he forgot, she intended to remind him, right now. Jiro cleared his throat, a third time in the hour. "Oh, yes, I know of whom it is you speak," he gallantly declared.

"That traitor Jedi, isn't it? He married _Padme Amidala_. I feel sorry for her and the children. I wonder if he killed them," _Right on, Jiro._ Padme grinned as Anakin's entire face burned with fury.

Shantra put a comforting hand on his arm, stilling him, and smiled graciously. "He isn't a traitor," she told them, confidently. "He's been seen gallivanting about killing villages," Padme pointed out.

Anakin rolled his eyes and went silent, glaring. _Oh, that hurt, did it? Guess what hurt more, when you showed up with her! How could you do this?_ Padme thought as they glared and Shantra and Jiro continued.

"A Sith clone, probably. Anakin Skywalker would never do such a thing. He is an honorable man," Shantra raised her chin a bit as she said that. "Besides, if I recall, _he's_ the one who saved Naboo since its queen was disinclined," she snorted. _"What?"_ Padme and Jiro demanded in unison, shocked.

"He did?" Anakin echoed, looking down at her with some confusion. "He did," Shantra affirmed, without looking up. She folded her chin in her palms and met Padme's eyes head on. Padme did not back-down.

"The whole universe knows it. She was such a coward she had a double-up do all her dirty work. Even lead her raids. That was not Padme Amidala, that was her unfortunate double-up who I bet she bribed. And the poor nine-year-old had to go and be the hero because she couldn't step up and do it herself," oh, heck no. Had this…Was she…? NO.

"Listen here…" she began, enraged. "Queen Amidala was a woman of principle and bravery," Jiro stepped in, leaning forward. His eyes, never so intense before, were the eyes of a hawk now, fierce and none too benevolent.

Shantra shrugged. "Maybe in her mind she was," she replied. "But in the end? It was the_ boy's_ heroism that saved everyone," she snorted.

"And the Jedi," Anakin added, neutrally. "Them too," Shantra popped, copying Anakin's stature so that she was leaning back, her own eyes buzzing with ferocity. "Well that hero is currently a traitor to everyone," Padme placed her hands on the table.

They wanted to argue about this? About her homeland and the sacrifice's she had made for it? That was low, and she could go lower. Fine, she'd argue her living innards out.

"Maybe," Anakin suggested, tightly. "That traitor would have turned-I'm still of the opinion he hasn't- because his wife queen shaka-laka-laka was conceited, single-minded and never respected his input," he suggested. Padme met his eyes square on.

"Perhaps she never respected his all-mighty input because he didn't understand it himself, he just wanted to be overbearing," she hissed back. "Maybe he was overbearing because he loved them!"

"If he loved them so blasted much he wouldn't be a Jedi, now would he? He doesn't understand what terror he strikes in his family's hearts when he goes to war!"

"_She_ doesn't understand war for a Jedi! There is no backing out now. And she could be just a little sympathetic to the fact that all he wanted was to be happy with _her_!"

"She can't be happy at all if he controls every kriffing second of her life!"

"He wasn't trying to control her life! He was trying to help _theirs_. She is too selfish to see that her life involves other people!"

"He thinks that just because he's a hot-shot general all around the galaxy means that he can order everyone around like he does his troops, and they'll obey!"

"Do you think he tries to be a hot-shot general? Do you know how often he almost gave_ everything_ for that stupid title?"

"He liked it!" Who were they addressing, who was it for which they spoke? Padme knew not their names. Padme Amidala and Anakin Skywalker would never have done this.

"So what? What does his hot-shot title have to do with anything?"

"Everything! He just does not understand! He's becoming something…Different,"

"Do you think he doesn't know that? That the whole kriffing Jedi Order doesn't know that? They're becoming what is called _Generals_!"

"No, it's called _monsters_!"

That silenced them both. Padme and Anakin, neither of them ones to argue civilly or quietly, were inches from each other's face, hands spread on the table, leaning forward, their chest puffed up proudly, muscles locked in defense; and eyes ablaze. They_ both_ looked like monsters.

Padme guessed that was what they had both become. Him with his avariciousness and she with her self-reliance, which side was nobler? Which cause should win? Because if she was wrong, she would back down. She would accept it, admit it, and break all ties to that part of herself. However, she did not feel as if she were wrong.

Only rage and pain dominated her mind, leaving no space for guilt or logic. Padme's saw the same battle in his eyes, inches from hers. If only she could capture those eyes and immerse herself in them forever… Which side should bow?

In the end, neither.

"Ace, can you help me with my button…Over here?" Shantra suddenly asked, clearing her throat. _Will you turn from me, and go to her?_ "Sure," Anakin growled deep in his throat. "Page, may I speak to you a moment?" Jiro added, sounding slightly displeased.

_Will you break your ties with me and speak only to him? _"By all means," she answered. Anakin's jaw clenched subtly, his eyes darkened, and he turned on his heel crisply, arm in arm with Shantra.

Padme sunk into her seat and watched them go, her emotions ranging from rage, jealousy, pain, anguish and loneliness, exquisite, burning, empty lonesomeness. For who else will understand you, if not your own heart?

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

"That went well," Shantra observed sarcastically as she yanked him over to a different secluded corner farther away. She turned and gestured to the buttons at the back of her dress. "Pretend to be buttoning those," she instructed. Anakin obeyed, silently.

He felt as if he were on a doomed ship, promised perfect skies and clear winds by the ocean, which had risen up and were thrashing him anyway. Back and forth, tearing apart his ship, the wheel spinning, without any direction which he wanted it go and the wind freezing his hair, the rain pelting his skin like jagged pieces of ice. Anakin pressed his lips together firmly to keep in a scream of pained frustration. What was _happening_ to them?

"I thought you said this would work!" He hissed furiously. Things had only gotten worse! "I thought so. She's quite a Gundark, isn't she? Not very nice, either. I expected a small, sweet and homely woman, and I get that for jealousy material," Shantra muttered back. "I warned you," Anakin sneered, peering at Jiro and Padme, talking. "I'm done," he whispered.

He did not mean it. Not really. He could never _really_ mean it.

"Yes, well…Ow! Don't _pinch_ so hard, blasted man! You aren't done until you win the prize," she replied. "The prize is already taken," he muttered. Padme had already been won, and the prize had been stolen while he slept at his post. Blast it all, he was fortune's fool!

Yet what could he do?

He felt as if it were already over.

* * *

~Padme's POV~

"He's not at all what I imagined," Jiro remarked, coolly as Padme glared at the two in the corner. Anakin began twiddling with the back of Shantra's dress. Padme imagined that, in some isolated corner of their room, those nimble fingers might have been working on unbuttoning the dress, urging it to fall away.

She shuddered. "I warned you," she answered coldly. "Padme…You didn't seem at all the loyal and loving wife during that…Debacle," he finished, studying her closely. "I haven't been that person in a long time, Jiro," She felt as if she were on a doomed ship, promised perfect skies and clear winds by the ocean, which had risen up and were thrashing her anyway.

Back and forth, tearing apart her ship, the wheel spinning, without any direction which she wanted it go and the wind freezing her hair, the rain pelting her skin like jagged pieces of ice. Padme pressed his lips together firmly to keep in a scream of pained frustration.

What was _happening_ to them?

"I certainly won't subject you to another one of _those_, if you don't like. I can take you home right now if you wish it," Jiro offered, his eyes never leaving hers. Padme crossed her arms and gazed over at Anakin and Shantra.

Auburn hair, azure eyes, pert lips, childish face, endearing smile, fiery temper, loving demeanor….VS red hair, gray eyes, thoughtful posed lips, welcoming face, charming smile, amenable temper, and relaxed demeanor.

One had already broken her heart, and part of her wished to stay, to force him to mend what he had broken with his too-tight constrict on her heart, but another part…

It yearned to follow the outstretched hand of the other, and fall into his embrace, let his compassion stir back the ruffles of pain into tranquil seas. She would not have to _fight _Jiro to build what had been broken.

Besides, it was not fair, for the former had another that had replaced her in his heart. She had always feared Anakin would find someone better, and it appeared he had.

Padme would not step into the way, for she loved him too much for that. She would _always_ love him. Yet if he did not love her, then, she would have to fall into the latter's embrace to heal the wounds of leaving.

"Take me to your house. I'm done here," she instructed, and Jiro nodded, without complaint. Padme searched for an alternative, numbly, but found none. She felt as if this war, whenever it had gone from argument to battle to war, were not one she could win.

And even if she could have, she felt as if it was already over.


	37. Things get worse

**_Later:_**

~Anakin's POV~

When Anakin returned home, sometime in the early morning, he was alone. Both internally and physically. Shantra had retired to her own dwellings, after several quiet apologies for making it worse. Anakin had rebuked these with a dismissive wave of his hand.

He had no one to blame but himself.

Sighing, he walked into the hose, and could not even muster a smile at the sight of Leia lying on the stairs, her small body curled up and a blanket around her shoulders. Her back rose and fell slowly, deep in sleep.

He assumed she had waited up for him. He sighed more deeply and walked over. He knew Obi-wan would not be here. Knowing the Jedi Master he probably had left minutes before. Anakin half-wished he would have stayed.

Anakin scooped Leia into his arms gently, careful not to wake her. _She's so perfect,_ he marveled silently, as her face rested against his shoulder. Her undone hair swished lightly over her face and shards of the morning sun came in from the windows, dancing on the floor, as if showing him what the remainder of his heart looked like momentarily.

Leia, though only three years old, looked very much like Shmi. Her round face and graceful smile, the way her eye slit up whenever she grinned up at him. Yes, just like his mother. And Padme.

"Hmm?" Leia murmured, softly. Her eyes fluttered open, only to settle back down into peaceful slits. "Motha?" she murmured. Anakin's gut twisted. _No, baby, only me, _he thought, and carelessly sent it through the force.

He could sense her tangled, sleep and warmly hazed mind tug at his playfully for a moment, she not fully understanding the sadness in him. Leia gave a comfortable nod of bleary acceptance, settled herself more firmly in his arms and with one tiny hand, grabbed his shirt within a balled fist.

"No chaos….Harmony, fatha," she whispered, before her head fell back against his chest. "Harmony…" she murmured in case he had not heard, before she was asleep again.

Anakin's eyes blurred. She had probably already memorized the Jedi Code to please Obi-wan. If only she knew how wrong the Code could be, how terribly, selfishly wrong…His entire life consisted of chaos. And she, his little bundle of peace, she was being affected. Force, life was so unfair. Punish him, but not his baby girl.

Anakin crept up the stairs and tucked her into bed. He glanced at the one across from it. Luke was absent from his bed. Anakin scowled, and wondered if Luke had gone to sleep elsewhere on the stairs, and in Anakin's fog of hazy depression, he had missed him. He turned and the scowl deepened when he discovered he was incorrect. Luke was not on the stairs.

Anakin bolted into the kitchen, and let out a breath of relief when he saw Luke Skywalker at the kitchen table, a cup of juice in his hands, which lay limp with sleep. Anakin had to let his mouth quirk up in a smile. He walked over quietly, but his appearance startled Luke.

He was so strong in the Force, and though many described it as a blessing, Anakin felt guilty for bestowing his children with his curse. He had hoped that, when they were born, they would be born normal, like Padme.

"Fatha?" he muttered, sitting up. A small trail of dried drool stuck to one side of his face. The rest resided in a tiny puddle on the table. Anakin's gut twisted at the endearing scene.

"Good morning, my son," he whispered hoarsely, as he kissed Luke on the head. "Did you have fun with Obi?" He asked, taking a seat next to Luke. He needed someone to talk too. Luke looked down, and hitched the blanket up higher on his shoulders.

"Leia did," he murmured. Anakin recoiled in surprise. "You didn't?" He asked. Luke shrugged, still looking down, and circled the rim of his cup with a finger. "I love Obi," he replied slowly.

"And Nava. But…They don't do stuff like we do. Obi doesn't like to fix things like you do, and Nava wouldn't race me on the pod-racer track. All they do is work; and I…" he paused, for lack of words.

Anakin nodded. "Want to have fun?" he suggested. "Yes," Luke sighed and rested his chin in his palms mournfully. "We'd have lots of fun together. Or if Soka were here, she'd play with me, or Lux-Lux. Leia doesn't really like that stuff, either. If motha were here, she'd teach me all kinds of big words I could use to trick Nava," he giggled.

"We used to do that all the time! She taught me to say tremendous, picturesque, ostentatious, brinkmanship…all the big words. And she'd tell me stories of Naboo, and the Gungans. Before…Before we moved here," his shoulders dropped, then he looked up with clear blue eyes.

"Nava used to help, and she'd tell me old stories about Jedi who saved citizens, and the nice people who helped. I like those stories. Soka taught me how to check the wires in a starfighter, and Lux-Lux taught me how to shoot. And you know what me and Trepid used to do? We'd draw traps on paper, and the try and make them so that we can catch some of the clones and scare them," he covered his mouth, giggling at the small prank.

Anakin's heart wrenched. "But that was a long time ago. I miss that stuff, and the clones. I miss Rex and Cody, too. They always laughed at the stuff I did, and clapped and cheered like they were happy. They always said they were proud of me, and called me little bud all the time," tears clogged Anakin's throat.

Luke looked down. "I miss that. A lot. So does Leia, but she doesn't say stuff like that, she's too scared, you know?" Anakin nodded, he knew all too well. "Anyway," Luke let out a small sigh and twiddled with his thumbs.

"Do you know where motha is?" He asked. Anakin thought back, when he and Shantra had returned to the table, Padme and Jiro had been…Gone.

"No," he replied, softly, wishing, force he wished he could tell Luke something different! "Oh," Luke whispered He kicked his chubby legs, thoughtfully. "Fatha?" He asked. "Yes, Luke?" Anakin dreaded the question.

"Will she come back?" Oh, that nearly broke his self-restraint. Anakin inhaled sharply. "She will," he agreed. "She loves you guys very much, Luke. She'd never leave you," he assured Luke. At least he had no doubts about _that._

"She leaves all the time. You do, too. Is it…Is it because of _me_, or Leia? Did we do something wrong?" He asked, timidly. That was it. He couldn't take that. Anakin looked away, sharply, as a sob escaped his throat. His emotions threatened to spill out of its container.

After a moment of holding back tears, he turned back to his son. His four year old son who should never, _ever_ have to think this way. Force, they were only four. They shouldn't have to go through this!

He put both hands on Luke's shoulders. "Luke, I promise you, nothing you have done, nothing you could do, would make me leave you. _Nothing_, do you hear me? I love you very much Luke, you and your sister. Neither of you is to blame. We just…It's just…"

he rubbed the back of his neck, how could he explain this to him? "Me and motha aren't being very nice to each other, and we aren't being very good friends right now. Its adult stuff. But I promise, neither of us will ever leave you and Leia lone alright? I will always be here for you, always," he promised, and meant it, with every fiber of his being.

Luke's bottom lip puckered. "I didn't do nothing wrong?" he squeaked. Anakin's bottom lip puckered, too. He took a deep breath. "Nothing. You're a good boy, Luke. I'm very proud of you, and so is your mother. Soka would be, too," he tried to tease. Luke glanced down at his feet.

"Soka is gone," he reminded his father in a mumble. "So are the others. You and motha, you won't leave, too? I…You used to yell at each other a lot, and now you don't talk to each other. It…The Force is wrong," he tried to explain befuddled feelings, sensed by intuition and by his own natural instinct together.

Anakin's heart felt like clay, being squeezed and wrung out by pain. He hadn't realized that his own actions would betray him in the force, that his Twins would pick up on the hostile atmosphere in the air so easily. How could he not have known? Wasn't he this sensitive as a child?

Anakin pulled his son into a hug, and kissed the top of Luke's head when the four year old started to sob. Anakin, unable to bear the pain of his light, his Luke, felt tears run down his own face.

He hid them in Luke's hair, and held him close against his chest. He kissed the top of Luke's head repeatedly, as if his kisses could fight away Luke's confused pain.

"I won't leave you," he swore. "Everything will be alright, Luke, I promise. I'll _make_ it alright," he would live up to his name and forget about everything else. He was a father, now, and he would do anything to protect his child.

Luke only continued to sob, his fragile little heart beating with the confusion and fear he had been holding in all the months since Biyalia was destroyed. What had Anakin done? What sort of _monster_ did this to his children?

He sobbed too, into Luke's hair, ashamed of his weakness, of his insensitivity, his own selfishness. He could take many things, but he could never take the fact that he had hurt someone he loved.

Even seeing them hurt by another was better than this. This time, he had done the damage himself, and it made him want to wring himself out, purge all the darkness in him away until only compassion and love was left. Enough for the entire universe.

"I'll fix it," he promised; he was drained by his own misery and shame, left as exhausted as Luke by it. "I'll fix everything, Luke, I swear to you."

So it was said, so may it be.

* * *

~Padme's POV~

It was nearing dawn when they arrived. Padme stumbled into Jiro's room with queasiness, knowing from the countless times she had been here where it was by instinct. This place, among many other titles, had also become a second home to her, and it showed in the way she collapsed into bed limply.

She was exhausted, and at the moment, too numb to register the tears that were falling from her eyes, or the dull, slow and melancholy thump of her heart.

She buried her face in Jiro's pillow and sobbed, without shame. She gripped the soft linen in her hands and squeezed repeatedly, clawing at the fabric as if they were Shantra herself.

She mumbled begs, begs for her Ani, begs for solace, for answers, for _something _that would ease the pain in her heart. Anything. She sobbed out apologies, apologies for everything-every kriffing thing she had ever done wrong in her life-and every injustice against a man that had already felt too many. She was so absorbed in this wracking cleansing of internal conflicts and bursting tempers that she did not notice when Jiro took her into his arms.

She did not see when he pulled her against him, her face pressed to his chest and her hands balled in the back of his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from her from madness, one hand snug on her waist, keeping her there in his warmth. And all she could think was that he was so_ warm_; so much warmer than the chill in her heart.

"Padme," he murmured. She did not look up, only gripped him harder, willed him to be silent so she could weep in solitude. "Padme," a firm and large hand cupped her chin and raised her head to meet his gray eyes.

Padme let him, and realized, dimly, that she was in his lap. She also realized that those eyes were opaque and murky, like the morning mist over a lake.

Then she kissed him, and before she could re-think this (or, start thinking. There had not been much thinking involved for her lately) he was kissing her back. Then, in a universe that had spiraled out of control that day on Geonosis, the picture she had made for herself shattered.

The rest of those pieces of said picture spiraled out of control, too.

Suddenly she realized that though it should not have, her body was aflame with desire. She did not stop. _Anakin, Anakin, Anakin,_ she tried to think, to remind herself. _You can't do this to him. Anakin, Anakin!_ But eventually pieces of his name vanished until there was nothing. Nothing but empty space, feral desire and simmering pain in her mind and heart.

Then her dress was being slid off her shoulders, and Jiro's hot breath was on her neck as he whispered her name repeatedly.

Padme gripped him to her, welcoming this distraction from anguish. Anakin's name fled her mind as the sun rose high above Courascant. In its place was replaced another. _Jiro. Jiro. Jiro. _Then Padme stopped thinking completely and succumbed to desire.

* * *

Alright, judging from the desperate reviews I've gotten, I can only think that as soon as my readers get done with this chapter, I'll have a mob outside of my house, demanding my blood. All I can say is...Don't kill me yet guys. For one: I haven't finished writing the rest of the series, and I really want everyone to see where all of this misery is leading, and two: we haven't even gotten to the good parts yet!...Remember, there will always be peace in the end, whatever end that may be.

~Queen Yoda


	38. A victorious day

~Intrepid's POV~

The rebellion, which had grown notably, fueled by Intrepid's growing speech-making and delivering skills, had fifty weapons all together. The slaves of Margo had begun trading with the people they once stole from, and the innocent civilians whom Margo wanted dead were helped to hide, instead of ruthlessly murdered.

Intrepid had never felt more like a leader in her life. This time, these people were not bred and born, their very DNA and purpose in life being to follow her commands.

She had loved the clones, and each one had a name, a personality, a life to her. Each was worthy of her respect, they were honorable and obedient _men_. But each, also was, a genetic copy.

These people were not clones. Charge of them and their livelihoods had not been placed in her hands without their choice or consent or even opinion. She had been voted in. She had earned her title and her respect, not had it placed on her because she was a Jedi.

She had never felt more like a _leader_. Each passing day, she forgot the name general.

She stood in the doorway of the weapons room, hidden deep underground behind secret doors only slaves of the rebellion knew, and the ones in the highest places, at that. Intrepid found that all rebellions rather ran the same way. The Rebel Alliance did this as well. The only difference? Intrepid had a _choice_ of whether she wanted to join in this war.

"There you are," a familiar voice said. Intrepid smiled as En-lai walked into the storage, quickly closing the door behind him. He walked up behind her and strong arms circled her, Intrepid melted into the embrace. She felt shielded here, and ultimately cared for.

A sense she had never felt from anyone else before. She had been cared for, loved, and held, but never like this. In this way, she felt as if even if she fell into a bottomless pit of despair, En-lai would follow her, and hold her in the bottom, and calm her screams.

"I've been looking for you. How many weapons do we have here?" he asked. "Fifty total," she replied. En-lai nodded and rested his chin in between her Lekku. "That won't be enough," he pointed out. "Whoever said we're attacking now? Soon, we will be ready," she soothed. En-lai nodded, though she could tell he was frowning.

"What?" she asked. "How do you know so much, Infinity? About war and weapons and stuff?" he asked. "It's as if you've lead troops before," he pointed out. Intrepid tensed.

En-lai noticed. "What?" he asked. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked. Intrepid sighed and took his arms form around her, hugging herself now.

The Force…It was telling her something. Not a voice, a sentence, or even feeling, but a gut-wrenching intuition bred from years of war. Was this her own war-paranoia or the force? En-lai had trusted her with the story of his parents. He had confided in her, and promised her his life.

Could she really promise him the same if she weren't honest with him?

She turned to face him, and smiled weakly when she noticed that his ice-blue eyes were concerned, not suspicious or questioning, but concerned, as if he believed she had been in previous danger and it bothered him.

How true it was. She hugged her elbows, and inhaled. This secret was not only hers. If she told him she were a Jedi, she was telling him she knew other Jedi. Where they were. Nava. Ahsoka. Lux. Anakin. Obi-wan. Padme. Luke. Leia. All of them, she would have to tell him everything; about them, as well.

Was it fair to give up their lives along with hers? She knew she could trust En-lai, she loved him. She trusted him with her life. But did she trust him with their lives, too? Of course, because she loved him.

Now the trick was to get him to _believe_ her. She inhaled and glanced at the door. "Make sure no one is within hearing range. I don't dare take any chances," she ordered. En-lai cast her a confused look, but nodded and did as she said. He poked his head out of the door, looked both ways and closed the door again.

"Now, what is it, Infinity?" he asked, crossing his arms as he turned to her. Intrepid took a deep breath. "En-lai…My name…My name is not Infinity," she began, crudely. She felt as if she were spouting chalk instead of words. "It's not?" he appeared surprised, but not too hurt.

"No. My real name is Intrepid. Intrepid Camber," she waited for the recognition to fire in his eyes. She did not have to wait long. En-lai's eyes widened; recollection of the name flared alive in his pupils, which dilated with shock. After all, her name was well known.

She, Lux, and Ahsoka had been one of the most valuable teams in the Order, before she had stopped answering their calls… Intrepid desperately hoped this would not change how he felt about her. She needed him. "Intrepid…There's a Jedi, one of the Trio named…" he trailed off, stared at her with eyes full of bewilderment.

Intrepid imagined this was quite a shock for him. She had kept her rouse well. She smiled feebly, if only at his shocked expression. "Yes. Jedi General Intrepid Camber at your service," she introduced, in the way she would have to some other person, one who had met her without the disguise of a slave.

En-lai stared at her for a second, or rather two…His mouth dropped, slowly…Three seconds…Intrepid held her breath…Four seconds… Then, something most unusual happened. En-lai fainted.

Intrepid watched; and only Jedi instinct compelled her to jump forward and catch him limp body before it hit the ground. Gently, she lowered him down, a smile picking at her lips. _Well_, she thought. _That went well._ Better than she had hoped, anyway.

Intrepid had never had met anyone who fainted when she told them that, but there was a first time for everything. She checked his pulse and breathing leisurely, just to make sure, and deduced he would wake up in a moment. Intrepid chuckled softly, wondering what in the blazes she was bound to tell him when he awoke, and held him in her arms, swiping away his rich black hair tenderly.

Ten minutes later, En-lai's eyes fluttered open weakly. When he saw Intrepid he grinned, then frowned. "Ohhh," he groaned, rolling over unto his side. "In-Infinity? Blast, I just had the weirdest dream…" he began groggily.

"It wasn't a dream," Intrepid interrupted. "It was real. It happened about ten minutes ago. You fainted. I'm a Jedi," she informed him of what had happened during his absence and before his fainting spell, just in case he had forgotten.

En-lai stared at her with incomprehension. A few timeless seconds passed. "Oh," he said at last. He gulped. "Oh," he repeated. "You're a Jedi. Yeah, um…That's…That's kind of weird," he murmured. "Why?" Intrepid inquired curiously. "Um…Well…You're…A Jedi. Big, glowing blade, odd mystic powers, mind reading, yeah, those aren't normal traits you look for in a girl," he pointed out, faintly.

Intrepid's heart jumped. "You don't say," she responded, calmly despite her racing heart. "Then there's that. No one else says that anymore," he added, in a groan. Intrepid was puzzled.

There were too people who spoke that way….Not in downtown Courascant, admittedly, but _somewhere_ in the galaxy. Wherever Obi-wan was from. There they had it. Obi-wan's people had to be intellectually amusing, for the pure fact that they were the same species as Obi-wan.

"Oh," she replied meekly, instead of saying all that. En-lai blinked up at her, as if seeing her for the first time, and shook his head. "Jedi. That's just great._ Jedi_," he sighed, sitting up. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

Intrepid cleared her throat. "You act like I've got some mind-eating disease," she observed. "No! No, it's not that, it's just….It's a shock, ya know? Just…Just a kriffing _shock_. I fell in love with a Jedi," he explained, breathlessly.

"So…" Intrepid dared to venture. "You still love me?" She asked. En-lai gave her a strange look. "Did you suppose it was something I could turn on and off?" he asked, some of the old teasing back in his eyes.

Intrepid blushed and looked away. "I-I wouldn't know. Jedi are not taught about love, or attachments, or…feelings in general, really," she confessed. "Well, that's stupid," En-lai stated bluntly. Intrepid nodded; now that she thought of it, it was very stupid, yes.

"So…" En-lai cleared his throat as well. "You…You really do love me? It's not just an act?" He asked, timidly. Intrepid was aghast. An _act_? She laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

"I can't act out what I have not been taught En-lai. I love you; did you suppose it was something I could turn on and off?" She inquired, teasingly. En-lai grinned uneasily.

"I wouldn't know. No one has ever taught me about love, or attachments, or feelings in general," he told her. Intrepid smirked. "Well, that's stupid," she observed. En-lai laughed and nodded. "Are you…? Is this really what you're like? On the inside, I mean?" He asked, curiously.

Intrepid nodded and shrugged. "This is me," she agreed. E-lai shook his head, marveling at her. "I…I can't believe it. This…This is just so…What are you doing here? I thought all the Jedi were helping the rebels," he pointed out. Intrepid rubbed the back of her Lekku. "It's…A long story," she explained sheepishly.

En-lai crossed his legs patiently. "We've got time. And we're alone in a secret vault. Tell me as much as you can," he said. Intrepid smiled, but before she could say a word, En-lai suddenly jumped up and ran to the door. He opened it, peeked both ways, and shut it again.

"We can never be too safe. If anyone else found this out, you'd have larger problems than stupid ol' Margo, and I'm not sure if we're ready to take on him, much less The_ Empire_," he pointed out, as he sat before her again. Intrepid grinned, and the love in her heart seemed to make the air sing.

Finally, she had found someone who understood her, who loved her truly, and was not ashamed to admit it. She had found her soul mate, her friend, her equal, lover, mate and sweetheart. She had found a face to reflect her own, and it was named En-lai.

* * *

~Ahsoka's POV~

There were two gangs whose leaders were found dead in an alley. Two rival gangs who came together for the pure purpose of pointing fingers. A whole drug dealer armada, with blasters, knives, poles, and whips, all growling, accusing and snarling over who the next leader should be. In the shadows, they did not see her. Ahsoka stayed back, leaning casually against a pillar in the abandoned library, ransacked decades ago, days after it had been built, bafflingly.

She watched the fights without much enthusiasm, confined to the Dark. No one noticed her in case. After all, there was a fight, much more interesting than anything she could have done, was happening.

Between two of the largest males from each gang. They were pummeling each other on the dirt ground inside a ring of cheering and shouting spectators. Ahsoka shook her head and chuckled softly. This was the eighth fight so far.

The champion this long, Dictum, had already battled, and killed seven others who dared challenge his declaration of leadership. Now, they only awaited him to finish his newest meat, and if anyone offered to try and defeat hum, well, then they'd watch him kill that person too.

Ahsoka wasn't just another, 'that person.'

Finally, with a feral scream of enraged victory, Dictum slammed his opponent into the ground and promptly smashed his sharp elbow into the other's stomach.

Ahsoka heard several ribs crack. The adversary, exhausted, let out a grisly scream before Ahsoka heard, acutely, the sound of one rib snapping and plunging down into the vulnerable heart below. He had speared his victim with his own ribs, impressive, if anything.

"Time!" Dictum hollered. Some random fellow ran over and slammed his hand on the ground. "One, two, three you're down!" He crowed. The crowd roared as Dictum stood. The body was dragged away. Ahsoka watched it, and felt an old flicker of rage kindle in her. She pushed it away. No time for compassion, she had a fight to win.

"Will anyone fight me now? Does a single soul even dare try?" Dictum called standing. The cheering went silent, no one moved, nor spoke. Ahsoka waited a moment. No one would volunteer next? Good, her turn.

Dictum looked about, and flexed his large arms, all four. He was whatever species Master Krell had been. Ahsoka really had no time to recount. She straightened up and walked into the circle calmly. The silence in the ear was deafening as she stood, chest to chest (actually, her head tails did not even go up to his chest. She was more along the lines of facing his upper stomach) with the champion.

The hoard broke into frenzied whispers, eyes flicking to her, studying her outline, sizing up the possibilities for a bloody death, other vain and vindictive things, Ahsoka was sure.

She only smiled charmingly up at Dictum. "_I_ challenge you," She purred. Another deafening silence. They had not expected her to say it, actually. Dictum laughed.

Ahsoka did not flinch as it boomed about the compound, the atoms of sound bouncing from wall to wall. Nervously, the crowd began to laugh with him. Ahsoka stood there, burying the first fires of any emotion as the snickers were tossed back and forth in the air.

Dear, pathetic fools.

Ahsoka moved, and in an action that she had been taught, from the earliest days of her youth, was illegal and dishonorable, caught one giant arm in a tight hold, and pulled it back. Dictum gasped lightly as he went flying into the far wall.

The crowd, full of drug masters, not idiots, dispersed in time for him to fly past. He crashed, teeth clenching tightly, then slipped to the ground.

There was no more cheering, nor snickering. Only an astounded, awkward silence that took up the entire perimeter of the room and city. _Whoever said silence was golden?_ She thought. _Whoever said Jedi were saints_, a part of her conscious answered.

Staggering, Dictum stood, and stared at her, eyes wide with the same shock the audience harbored. Ahsoka folded her hands behind her back. "Your move," she told him, mildly. This fragmented sentence seemed to stop the victor cold. Ahsoka wondered if he would be sensible and give up now. Some part of her wished-hoped- that he would.

Some part of her did not want to hurt him.

That part was silenced when, out of the blue, he moved, and it was the same unmerited move she had used, only with a knife, which only doubled the unfairness of it. Ahsoka dodged the sharp, flying object with skills honed from fighting mega battle droids.

She crouched, and let the small missile shoot over her and dig itself into the far wall. The crowd let out a symphony of gasps. Ahsoka looked up, so they were going to play that game, were they?

Very well, his loss. Ahsoka unwrapped the metal crossbow from her back, and loaded it, pointed directly at the large chest thrust boldly and cockily out at her. The crowd inhaled sharply, in unison.

The very air went still, and time seemed to halt, holding its breath, the force unsure of who it would have move first, who should die, who exactly was its chosen tool for peace, and which was its chosen tool of destruction. Ahsoka left the choice up to it.

The force chose, and she was forced to duck again as another tiny pointed missile went flying towards her. Ahsoka ducked, and her arrow flew with a whistle. Honing into her cat-like instincts, she crouched, and leapt, her eyes searching out weak spots. If she could get her fangs into his_ neck_…

He grabbed her by the waist, and attempted to break her spine in two on his knee. Unluckily for him, she had used this trick before herself, and she knew exactly how to struggle out of his grip. Being so small about the waist, it was also considerably easy.

She grabbed the elephantine palm around her stomach, in the crucial seconds before he snapped her spinal cord, then pried apart his fingers with the weak spots in between his fingers.

The hand was a most intricate and fragile thing, the bones so small and thin that they could, even in a large hand, break quite easily. Dictum's hand made a small snapping sound before she landed on her feet before him, debonair.

Dictum screamed; the first scream from him so far, and cradled his split fingers and hand in one of his others. One hand down, three to go. Ahsoka did not wait for him to recover from finger pain; she sped forward and landed a well-aimed kick right for his jaw. The momentum sent him to his back, gasping.

Ahsoka stood over him, quelling the instinctive urge to stab him to death, say a prayer over the body and drag her prey back to camp before it began to rot. Once, she might have considered this a pagan idea, now it seemed relatively intelligent. One of the best ideas she had ever had.

Instead of doing or saying any of this, however, she only stood over her opponent, arrow cocked, and asked politely: "would you care to concede?" just to be nice.

Dictum did not take advantage of her mercy; or rather he _did_, just not in the smart way. Instead of answering, he grunted in either pain of rage, and kicked the feet from under her. Ahsoka went tumbling to the ground with a gasp. Her bow and arrows skittered away.

Before she could move, Dictum was suddenly on top of her, one arm holding one of hers down, and the others scrambling to secure the second appendage, still free.

At least two-hundred pounds of raw muscle was situated on her waist, nearly crushing her pelvis. Ahsoka fought the urge to panic. Without her lightsaber, and unable to use the force, this would be a tricky escape.

She kicked and writhed underneath him as he struggled and cursed at her. The crowd moved in closer, shouting things that Ahsoka did not hear over her own screams of rage. Or was she afraid? She did not know.

She had stopped thinking, feeling, and just plain being civilized after she had killed bloodshot. She did not know what to do, where to go, or how to fix the mess she was in.

_"You can be something better than a Jedi. You can have more power. You can end this fight __**with**__ me,"_

_"Well, seeing as how you haven't gone Sith yet, I'm fine with that. I have had my fair share of dances with the dark side, too. Now come on,"_

_"That's right. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka. You've spent your whole life training against what you're about to do,"_

_"By the force, I am tired! And dizzy as kriff!"_

_"Your wife is in labor,"  
_

_"Are you ready?"_

_"Well, I couldn't have done it without the help of you all, now could I have?"_

_"A few days after your return, the council held a meeting. Your bravery and self-sacrifice had earned you the right of knighthood in their eyes, Snips,"_

_"And she's going to be the third Jedi in our line to be knighted without the trials,"_

_"Ko-to ya, lil' Soka,_"

Ahsoka pushed the voices back, and looked up as one sweaty palm grabbed her throat in a choking hold. She waved her hand frantically. There was only one way-one kriffing way-she was going to get out of this alive, and it was not by the Jedi way.

She looked up; just as black dots swam before her eyes, and blinked them away so that she could focus on her bow. She spread out her arms and called the force, ignoring that it was just a bit darker than usual. It did not count when you were fighting for dear life, did it?

She knew it did, she did not care.

Slowly, with agonizing hesitance that was causing her to black out quickly, since he as pushing own harder on her throat by the seconds, the bow wavered towards her. Then it was in her hand_. "You're strong, lil Soka."_

Ignoring the voices, decedents from a girl named Ahsoka Tano, not Air Raid, she swung it up, and heard only aloud, resonating crack before the grip on her throat went suddenly slack, as did the body.

Ahsoka gasped and panted for sweet air when her combatant suddenly landed on her chest, and blood spurted from his head, which had been cracked open like an egg by her bow. She saw the pinkish material of brain under a white skull. She shuddered and quickly scrambled from below her dead Dictum.

Dead. The third one that month.

Silence, condemning her to some vile and despicable place in her heart where no sun shined and no rain fell to heal the desert or stop the humid winds. Ahsoka stared down at Dictum, and wondered when she had killed him, and why it had been so_ fast_.

Suddenly, the crowd roared with cheering approval. _He's dead. You killed him, _her mind whispered. _No, Ahsoka Tano had nothing to do with it. It was all Air raid. All her_. Ahsoka shook her head and blinked rapidly, to clear her vision of dotty tears.

Then she turned to face her new Empire, brought together by their mutual fear of crossing her path, and their mutual, unspoken acceptance that she had proven herself the best by this waste of life.

It was disgusting, just like her. Ahsoka set her mouth in a grim line, and thought that she as one step closer to shutting down the drug dealings in this area for a very long time.

Somehow, that did not console her.


	39. Complications

~Padme's POV~

She woke up underneath a large, warm body. She could feel his breath tickling her collarbone. Long arms were wrapped around her middle tightly, with the obvious mark of affectionate protection. Padme's eyes fluttered open peacefully, and her body felt pleasurably sore with the fulfillment of love making.

She looked down, and saw a rumpled mass of large male still on top of her, the both of them naked. She pushed the blanket carpeting them away, just to see Anakin's devilishly handsome face in the morning…

Yet, it wasn't Anakin. It was Jiro.

Like an arrow, the truth came soaring through the mounds of thoughtlessness to hit its bullseye with a perfect and resonating clang of finality. Padme gasped and wriggled underneath him.

Jiro, though, was still in a deep sleep. Padme looked around at her surroundings, flabbergasted. She had….Force, had she really…What had…Oh, damn, she_ did_! How could she?

"Jiro!" She hissed, desperate to extract herself from underneath him. Jiro groaned softly and looked up, blinking blearily at her. His short red hair stuck up in spikes, and Padme remembered who exactly had cajoled them into those spikes the night before.

Jiro blinked a couple times at her, still half asleep. Then his eyes grew wide as the same arrow, which Padme_ refused_ to think could be Cupid's blasted arrow, hit its mark in him, too.

He let out the same gasp and sat up quickly, eyes sweeping over his naked form. "Padme?" he gasped, snatching the blanket to cover himself, but since he had snatched it, the blanket then revealed her. His jaw dropped.

Padme let out a small screech of what could only be described as surprise, and rushed out of bed to the bathroom. Once she was close enough, she slammed the door and leaned against it, gasping.

She, and _Jiro_…? Padme's heart thumped in her chest, and she put a hand over her mouth to keep in a sob or scream. How…This wasn't even…She was in just as much shock as she imagined Anakin would be when he found out. If he found out.

Padme, she knew that there were women who had cheated on their husbands out there, she knew it, but she had never imagined herself in the same kriffing ranks as these women. She was a cheater, a traitor, she had betrayed not only Anakin, but the twins as well. She was a monster…

How could he ever forgive her?

The sob escaped, and Padme sank to the ground, covering her mouth, numb with the shock of what she had just done, the foul crime she had willingly committed. "Padme?" Jiro knocked at the door. "Here are your clothes," the door opened a tad, and Jiro's hand appeared, holding out the discarded clothes.

Padme took them mutely, and stepped into the fresher, scrubbing away all signs of tenuous exertion. The hot water ran over her skin with scalding heat, as if it were punishing her for her betrayal.

_What will I even tell him? What can I tell him? What will I tell Luke and Leia? _Padme pondered. These ideas-and the situations and hurt that would be the cause of her betrayal- initiated clenching knots in her stomach.

Another thought flashed in front of her mind, and this time, it literally made Padme sick, all over the fresher floor, which only added to her fear. The fear that she could be_ pregnant_.

What had she been thinking?

After almost an eternity of scrubbing away the night's activities from her skin, she exited the fresher, dressed in the same hated dress she had worn the night before. It seemed a century now. Jiro was in the kitchen, something sizzling on the stove. Padme walked in, silently, feeling strangely as if she were in a dream.

She stood in the doorway, just watching Jiro. For someone who had participated in her betrayal, he looked very much at ease with himself. He smiled jovially as he worked, and whistled cheerily. He was dressed as well, his hair and skin scrubbed to cleanliness. He looked up, and blushed when he saw her.

Padme offered him nothing but a blank stare. Jiro nodded, as if he knew what she were thinking anyway, and motioned for her to sit. Jerkily, Padme made her way over to the table and slumped into a seat. For a moment, Padme was even able to deceive herself into thinking that this was her life, and always had been. She had always lived here, On Courascant.

She had never been senator for a destroyed Republic, or met a Padawan named Anakin Skywalker, and fell in love with him. She had been Jiro's wife all along, and Luke and Leia were their children.

She half expected the twins to run out of the adjacent rooms any moment now, happy and giggling, normal children without force powers, without a father who was the Chosen One and a mother was who…A traitor. A rotten, horrid traitor.

Shame came rushing up in the manner of vomit, but Padme swallowed it and let Jiro set a plate of something spicy and aromatic in front of her, followed by a cup of caf. She stared down as Jiro sat next to her, silently, his atmosphere untroubled, his eyes carelessly jolly.

What was going through his head, didn't he feel the same heated, mocking, tearing guilt as she did? She was so _stupid_. Anakin didn't deserve this. She did not deserve him, traitor that she was. She deserved dirt.

For a moment, they sat silently, both trapped within the scope of dissimilar thoughts before Jiro spoke. "You're very beautiful," and the first sentence he spoke was a compliment. Was that some sort of omen? Padme was too…Absorbed in her own guilt and despair to ponder it.

"I'm a fool," she corrected, emotionlessly, not meeting his eye. She wanted to cry, but no tears were willing to come. "You're a remarkable woman who needed an outlet. I'm only glad I could provide it. He doesn't deserve you," was that true?

Somehow, that seemed like a better way to describe her current situation. Not that she did not deserve him, but rather he did not deserve _her_. That thought lessened the pain, so she accepted it readily. Not that it made what she had done right. "And you do?" She snapped.

Jiro snorted. "No. I don't, but I'm more deserving than he is, I'd say. He doesn't care for you, Padme; didn't you see him ogling over that woman last night? He tore your heart, I could see as much on your face. You don't need him," yes, these things, they helped mend the wounds, if she could just_ believe_ it…

Padme would believe anything to make the pain go away. She looked at him. "What are you asking?" She asked, numb, but still intelligent to know this was going somewhere.

"I love you," oh, that was great, that was just plain_ terrific_. He loved her, a traitor. A horrible, monstrosity, and he loved her. Yet she loved Anakin. And Anakin loved someone else. Wasn't this just a soap drama from the holo-vision?

Padme wanted to cry so badly. She stood and backed away, slowly, as if she were a caged animal ready to ram the door to its cage. "You…You love me?" She croaked. Jiro watched her with compassionate eyes.

"With all my heart and soul and mind. Words cannot even describe my depth of feelings for you, Padme…Please, marry me," she was destined to die. Not right now, and not physically, maybe, but force, her heart was cracking underneath this strain.

It was being torn in kriffing half. "You can come here," now Jiro stood; his eyes wide and pleading. Padme shook her head and backed away as he advanced, her hearth thundering in its cage, fluttering about within its cage, feathers flying and falling off in a colorful deluge of panic, like a trapped parakeet.

"Live here with me, you, Luke and Leia. Let Anakin go on with his Jedi Order and his rebels cause. We will bring back the Republic the _right _way, through peace and unity. I won't leave you, and I won't take you for granted. Just come with me, please," Padme's heart was thundering in her heart with either fear, shock, or shame.

She felt her lungs heaving. Her soul was torn in two, one half ready and able to accept this new offer, and the other obstinate in its devotion to the past.

"I'm…You know I'm_ married_..." She choked out, as an excuse to turn and run, trying to control her fear and fury in one place. "_Happily _married, Padme?" Well, that was a contradictory topic, but wasn't all things?

No, not all things were. Right now, though, in the chaos of her life, her very existence was a contradiction to all things right and pure. She was not pure; she was a blot on something that should have been clear. Shaking her head, Padme turned, the door was right there…

"Jiro…I can't…I don't know," she stammered, in explanation. She felt so_ trapped_. "Padme, listen to me," no, this was too much like that day, when Anakin had…No, she could not think of Anakin, not here.

Padme shook her head, interrupting him. "No, you listen!" She shouted at him. "I…I…I need time to think," she decided. Jiro's shoulders deflated, as if she had torn something vital out of him with that one sentence.

"Alright. I-I can understand that. Would you like…?" She would like to die, but she assumed he would not suggest that. "I have to go," she gasped; and snatched the purse by the table, almost running. "Do you want a ride?" with him? _No_.

"I'll walk," no, she would run. She would run to nowhere, because that was the only place she was going now. With that, Padme flung open the door, and raced out into the gloom.

* * *

Later:

_"With all my heart and soul and mind. Words cannot even describe my depth of feelings for you, Padme…Please, marry me," _Padme was in a blind stupor when she stumbled into the house.

It was midday, or midnight, she did not notice nor care. She could not notice anything beyond what her numbed mind argued was torn and shattered pieces. She had considered not coming back at all.

But the thought of the twins had driven her from this ludicrous cowardice. She would _not_ abandon them, no matter the circumstances. She was their_ mother_. She would have to face Anakin eventually.

But, how could she tell him?

As it turned out, she did not get to say _anything_ before he had her in a hug. She had only opened the door, exhaling pitifully, barely breathing for fear of what was coming when Anakin appeared, as if out of thin air, and nearly strangled her in a hug. She gasped shrilly at the fierce grip he had her in.

"Padme," he breathed, as the door closed behind her. Padme, who was still sore, nearly crumbled to her knees when he put her down. Anakin gripped her by the shoulders, his azure eyes digging into hers.

"Thank goodness you're back. Listen to me. We need to fix this, whatever it is. I know we haven't exactly been…Clicking lately, but for the twins…We have to, Padme. Do you know what Luke told me this morning? He thought that all of our fighting was his or Leia's fault. He's confused and scared. He thinks we'll leave them alone," he explained, in a breath of hurried air, propelled by guilt. His eyes swam with it.

Padme stared at him blankly a moment, before his words clicked in her head. Her stomach, already clenched in knots with guilt, turned to solid rock. The twins were affected by this, too? Her babies?

"What did you tell him?" She asked hoarsely. Anakin did not seem to notice her hoarse voice, or he was too preoccupied with his own internal fights to notice.

"That we'd never, that I'll fix it, whatever got him to stop crying," she had thought Anakin's eyes seemed a bit red. She assumed he had probably cried with Luke. Jiro's proposition flitted through her head, but she ignored it.

For the twins, she would pretend peace, and explain the rest later. She would figure this all out later. After she had made it up to Luke and Leia. "So, we have to do…Something. We have to figure things out between us, alright? Whatever it is, I'll do it. We have to _fix_ this," Anakin told her, his eyes implored with her to understand that he was seeking another chance, another attempt at something that she was not sure had ever existed anyway. She felt just as trapped here as with Jiro. Was that what she had become now, a trapped animal?

She nodded, numbly, and decided that for now, her night with Jiro, his proposition and everything else would go unspoken. Some things were better left unsaid, especially things that she had no clue about herself. Her whole world was a sea of raging chaos, but she would _not _drag Luke and Leia into her drowning boat. She would not.

So it was said, so it would not be.

* * *

I just want to thank all my readers and reviewers who have stayed with me. I knew when I first posted this story that it wouldn't be as popular as my others, for the pure drama and _angst_ involved, but I'm glad that I have a few new faces and loyal followers still hanging in there with me. It gives me a reason to do what I do. And isn't it only in the face of adversity that you find real friends?

~Queen Yoda


	40. Philosophers and kings

~Obi-wan's POV~

The fire crackled in the fireplace, having been wonderfully attended too by the servants, all of whom had gone back to their beds, leaving the late-night droids to continue with their shifts. Obi-wan leaned back in his chair and sucked in a deep breath of hickory scented smoke.

Real fire, most often it was used to represent destruction, or death. Yet the sweet smell and relaxing crackle that brought warmth to the room; that in itself was not evil. Fire was not destruction. The people who used it for such things were the true destructionists.

"What do you think, Tyrion?" he inquired, contentedly, to his companion, sitting in a chair across from him. Unlike Obi-wan, Tyrion was in a rocking chair, which for some reason he preferred.

His wife was in the same chair next to him, fast asleep, her head lolled over to face the fire. The burning, suckling entity left an orange glow on her placid features, a perfect scene of peace and warmth. Obi-wan wished he could see it with his actual eyes.

He glanced over at the empty space next to him. He could not sense Nava, but she had left a token of herself in his grasp. Her hand, situated firmly in his.

She was also curled up in the chair at his side, a blanket covering her as she slept deeply, his hand pulled snug against her cheek. He found it soothing to hold her that way. He sighed in contentment, feeling the very bones in him sink deeper into their places.

"Think of what, my friend?" Tyrion inquired quietly, in the same contented, lazy and fulfilled mood as Obi-wan. He was watching the fire, rocking back and forth patiently.

Though Obi-wan could not see it, he assumed his friend's face was relaxed and calm. "Fire. Is it destructive or life-giving?" He asked. Tyrion seemed to perk up with the divisive issue. He watched the fire contemplatively. Obi-wan waited, none too in a hurry.

"That depends on who uses it," Tyrion said at last, wisely. Obi-wan nodded. "I came to the same conclusion myself," he agreed. "Yet fire is spoken and used in a negative light so much. Mostly because people use it mostly for negative purposes, since fire is very well adept at destroying, does that mean it was_ meant_ to destroy?" he was not talking about the fire anymore, but rather someone he knew.

It was a question pondered since his childhood. The Jedi could destroy, could kill, could become ruthless monsters with a snap of fingers, yet they did not. Yet that ability to destroy; did it in fact mean that they were created to destroy? Just because you were skilled at something, did that make it your calling?

Tyrion rubbed his chin. "You mean was it created to be a weapon of destruction, or is its preordained task to eliminate and demolish?" He asked. So perceptive and clever; his friend.

"The latter," he answered, lithely. "Well, that again goes down to who wields the power of fire, my friend. Fire can be destructive, and that is its most common use nowadays. Yet, it is also life-giving, and warm," he shook his head.

"It can bring light and save lives; cauterize wounds, it can give energy, and is often used to describe beauty. The life-giving embers of love. The kindling of power. The fire-beacon of hope," he named off some of the common terms.

"Some might say these things are bad, as well," he claimed, squeezing Nava's hand for some reason. "They bring pain," he pointed out. "What, love, power, and hope? Indeed they do," Tyrion agreed with a cheery chuckle that told Obi-wan he could not care less. "So doesn't that mean that even in its positive rights, fire is still destructive in a way?" Obi-wan pressed.

"Aren't we all, Osiris? We all have our destructive tendencies, our rare moments of pure wickedness. Fire, in my opinion, is no different from us beings. It is used in a negative light so much, because that is its main use," he sighed.

"Politicians, business men, teens, children, women, men…We all have our stereotypes of each category of being, yet it is not the _name _that is evil. The whole race of Trandoshans are not all vain, destructive, rude or cruel. Those are just the examples most common. It depends on the person who yields the name. Just like the purpose of fire depends on the user," he examined.

Obi-wan nodded. "Fire can destroy whole cities, yet fire can also help forge the tools to rebuild that city. It depends on the user," he finished. Tyrion nodded.

"Just like it depends on the soul to determine whether a person is good or bad. They say all politicians are corrupt. Some think all children are ignorant. All business men greedy. All loners lonely. All crippled, powerless," he named off. The last one hit Obi-wan hard.

He nodded. "Yet they're not all that way. It depends upon the user, the person," he agreed. "Yes. Yes, indeed. Now I have a question for you," Obi-wan waited, hearing the creek of Tyrion's chair as he rocked back and forth slowly.

"Is _water_ destructive or life-giving?" Obi-wan was momentarily stumped, he had been asked-and asked himself-the fire question before. However, no one had ever asked him if _water _were good or evil.

He had always associated water with Jedi, fire with Sith. Red with immoral, blue with moral. Yet water could be red in certain lights. Fire could be blue at certain temperatures. Water could be scalding at certain times, and fire could be cold as ice to the perception. What separated the two, really?

"It depends upon the situation," he realized. Tyrion nodded. "I have come to the same conclusion myself. My two-year-old younger sister drowned when I was but eight years old. I was afraid of water for years after; I thought it an evil thing, even refused to drink it unless forced. Yet so many people use it as the springs of goodness," he confided. Obi-wan nodded in understanding.

"You can drown in water, or it could be freezing water and kill you from the outside in. It can destroy whole cities as well, with floods and tsunami's. At the same time, water is like fire. It can help a dying man in a desert. It will wash away the dirt from a soiled body; it can bring coolness to a life of stressed heat, or bring heat to a body shivering in the air's cold atmosphere. It is also a source of wonderful beauty," the lakes and streams on Naboo, for example.

Then he remembered the relaxing fire in the fireplace. Both beautiful things, yet it could also be ugly. What was the difference between the two, if one could quite so easily become the other?

"It depends upon the situation," he exhaled. "It is similar to life itself," Tyrion observed. "It is unpredictable. It can destroy you or spare you destruction, depending on what circumstances you find yourself enduring," he said.

"Yes," Obi-wan breathed, looking down at the empty space, which was actually Nava. "Fire is like us, like the actual beings. Water is our lives, the lives we live. It depends upon the person and the situation to decide what is good or bad. It is all a _point of view_," his personal mantra now had more backbone to it.

"Ah, philosophy," Tyrion sighed snugly, leaning back. He chuckled softly. "Don't you just love it?" he asked. Obi-wan swiped away a piece of hair from Nava's forehead, watching her tenderly. Were the Jedi good or evil? Well, it depended upon your point of view, now didn't it?

So were the Sith right about the Jedi?

From a certain point of view, absolutely.

Yet were they also wrong?

From _his_ point of view, in every single way.

Added, what did it matter, who was right and wrong? Who was virtuous or not? They were all _the same_. They all followed the path of water; they were all little flames of fire. Everyone was the same, Jedi and Sith, citizen and politician, men and women, children and adults…Everyone. They all had equal minds and equal shares, to say otherwise was another viewpoint in itself.

Now, only now, did he understand Qui-gon's love for pathetic creatures, for the ones everyone considered below them. He had known this fact, that everyone and everything was the same. No wonder he had been mad. Mad people always were the philosophers. Another worry suddenly opened up to him, and niggled in the back corner of his mind.

So what it is to be a Jedi? What does it mean, when you were the same as everyone else? He gulped as his new discovery answered the question for him.

_ Nothing. _

* * *

~Lux's POV~

Lux had never been in this position before. He had never been full general of anything in his entire life. He hadn't even gotten to the status of prince.

That was why he was so surprised when he was good at it. Maybe it was his former experience, maybe he was just born to lead, whatever it was, he was good at it. Very good. And he used a trick that had been taught to him by the renowned Charlatan Queen herself.

_ Spies. _

Lux really did like the idea of spies. Sneaky, great actors if you asked him. And they did a marvelous job at identifying gangs and drug Lords as well. The fact that he had put Maxell in charge of this little circle of saboteurs probably helped matters.

Meanwhile, Lux leaned back in his chair, the one that had previously been General Damara's, and reflected upon his academy.

Should he be worried about someone calling in or something? About Sidious demanding a report? He did not think so, the Sith had greater problems than a training school in the Courascant underground. What about any other superiors? The Lux realized there were no other superiors. He was superior to everyone already.

_ He_ was the king, with no other above him to dictate his decisions. It was a rush of power and triumph. Lux smiled, for the first time in months, and looked at his mechanical hand. He could rid the streets of crime in days if he wanted.

He could be the king, the all-powerful; he could rule a fair kingdom, like he had not been able to before because of the Clone war. Finally, he had found a kingdom to rule, all on his own. People to call his own.

The people of the underground would recall his name in history. He would be the greatest king it ever had, officially or not. And he would prove to his parents that he _could_ be something else, indeed.

* * *

Everybody strap yourselves in because we're just going downhill from here.

~Queen Yoda


	41. Love lost

**_Eight weeks later:_**

~Padme's POV~

Padme stared down at the small indicator, the screen, thin and font easily readable, flickered insistently. She had tried seven different tests, and all came out the same. She leaned against the door, silent tears running down her cheeks. She still had not told Anakin of that day. But soon, he would find out himself.

She was pregnant with Jiro's child.

* * *

~Intrepid's POV~

The Force was disturbed. Intrepid had not felt so much unease form her living curse for a long while yet, and no amount of meditation would make the insistent caregiver leave her to her peace.

Not even En-lai could smooth her ruffled exterior. Intrepid, with a feeling of sinking dread, was relatively sure she knew why the force was so apt at telling her something.

Today was the day they would ambush Margo and his cronies, all meeting in one place again today. The other slave drivers, raised as slaves themselves, would be in the same room, smoking away the day while they discussed things that were beyond Intrepid.

Idiotic things, certainly.

She watched as the rebels, most of the enslaved population now, grabbed the various weapons from the vault. Intrepid leaned inside the door, her arms crossed as she watched them shuffle, faces set in determined lines. They knew not what was coming.

They all probably assumed that it would be smooth and easy, that Margo would surrender when he noticed the blasters pointing at him, Intrepid knew better. The force told her so now. There would be bloodshed over this cause; freedom came at a high price.

For some reason, though, her senses were clouded by something. This could be the shroud of the Dark Side or it could be something totally different. She only wished she knew, so that she could help these people. "The others are stashed away," En-lai reported, sidling up to her side, his ice eyes dancing with excitement. She shook her head at his ignorance and turned her head languidly.

"Aziza, Azari, Cece, and Dame?" She asked. He nodded and smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. In his arms, her unease suddenly shifted to the back of her mind. There was no danger in his embrace, only affection and love.

Intrepid sighed, relaxing, and rested her head against his chest, listening to the steadying rhythm of his heartbeat. How the Jedi forbid such a wonderful thing as true love?

This…These feelings were what kept her rooted in light, not any musty words centuries old. It did not matter; she was not Jedi any longer, she had left their ranks for En-lai. And she held no regrets for it.

"All of them. I told them to go get us some more blankets," he chuckled, and his chest vibrated with the effect. Intrepid closed her eyes, sure she was in bliss. "Not that we don't have enough, but I don't want them anywhere near here when we do this. It may get dangerous. Are you ready?" he asked.

Intrepid nodded and looked up. "Of course. You'll be careful?" She demanded. En-lai nodded and kissed her forehead. "I promise, my love, if you will. I cannot lose you now," he whispered against her head tail. A shiver ran up her spine at his breath, so close to a tender object. "Nor can I lose you. We'll have to be careful together, I suppose," she teased.

En-lai snorted. "If it's in my vocabulary, I'll work on it. Speaking of which, almost time to go. I'd better begin my deception. See you later?" he squeezed her arms, eyes catching hers in a spell of temporary farewell. The Force nudged the back of her mind, hissing direct warnings. She ignored it and leaned up to give him a luxurious kiss on the lips.

"See you soon. Remember to be careful," she replied when they parted, both slightly winded. He nodded, squeezed her arms another time, harder, and gave her a reassuring smile before he took his leave, turning to go to Margo.

He would be the one inside of the room, and he would be the one to signal them inside to take the others as he held Margo at blaster point. It was a dangerous job, one Intrepid would not have wished upon him if he had not insisted.

_"That monster stole me from my parents. I want to be the one to hold him at blaster point," he told her, his fists clenching in his lap. "Holding in such anger will kill you," she responded, gripping his hand in hers to massage the fist back into tranquility. He shook his head. _

_"I shall never have rest again until he is dead or behind bars. Please, let me be the one who will start the whole thing," he pleaded. Intrepid sighed and leaned back, watching him placidly._

_"It's a dangerous job," she warned. "I can do it," En-lai assured her, hand squeezing hers in promise. Intrepid shook her head. She must trust him. She must be willing to let him go, or it was not love, but attachment. "I'll speak to Cain about it, but I cannot guarantee you anything," she cautioned. En-lai grinned. "All I ask is that you try," he told her_.

Yet she was a master negotiator, and after a few moments of heated argument, She had gotten her way, and En-lai had gotten his task. The most important task among them.

If he signaled wrong, they would all be blasted to smithereens, because Margo was not the only one in there, and they all had blasters, too, and shelter to duck behind.

"Infinity!" Cain yelled. She turned to her friend, a large blaster was strapped to his back, and his face was grave. Cain had seen men die in their fight for freedom, and he was not afraid to die with them, as well. "We're ready to start moving. Everyone who isn't with us is out?" She nodded.

En-lai had made sure of that. "Good. Everyone, grab your weapons and steady yourselves. Here we go," he called. The dozens of people, women, men, children, all dressed in tattered rags, looked up and nodded, faces resolute. They would live free, or die. Intrepid would fall with them if the situation demanded it. She pulled the blasters in her hands tighter to her chest and nodded at Cain.

He was the leader. He rushed past her, and she hurried on his heels through the halls of their abandoned building, where all the slaves had slept and been whipped. It was completely silent as they snuck through the halls, and filed outside of Margo's meeting door.

The smell of smoking and the sound of hoarse laughter came from the other side. Intrepid's heart thundered in her chest, rapid with shockwaves of lightening. Uncertainty twisted her gut, would everyone be alright? Would they have to murder the slavers?

That was the unspoken plan, but could she somehow prevent it? Would En-lai get hurt? She hoped not. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to him.

The force flared in warning. Intrepid closed her eyes, exhaled the feeling of dawning death and destruction, and waited beside Cain, who was staring at the door intently, waiting…Freedom cam cost, she was ready to accept that cost, for she had felt the chains of slavery, and knew that whatever cost it was, was well worth it.

Then, from the other side, a knock. The signal. "Agh!" Cain roared, filled with foolish battle fury already as he charged into the door. Intrepid, her heart thumping in her chest, followed, blasters raised. The others all ran into the room in a disorderly fashion, despite the hundreds of times they had _practiced_ this, blasters raised and haunches tensed.

Yet, all was silent. There was no one here.

Intrepid blinked a few times. The room still stunk heavily of drugged smoke, and on the small rotting table a recorder screeched with the aforementioned laughter heard earlier. Yet the Force told her, with implicit instructions, that no living being was present.

_Where is En-lai?_ She thought; stricken cold. The word trap wafted behind her eyes. She turned, about to bark out an order, but before she could, screams suddenly filled the air.

Intrepid swung around, in time to see several people drop like flies. Red blaster bolts, so damningly familiar, and horrifyingly obvious, flew through the air, screaming cold death. She gasped as seven mega droids ambled into the room, and raised their automatic blasters.

More screams filled the chamber as the Force cried out in death, with the moans of wounded men and women, or the sobs of dying children and final breaths of their sisters and brothers This was a massacre.

Margo had _known_.

Intrepid had no time to ponder how, or even who could have betrayed them, for her bad feeling grew. She turned, and gasped shrilly when golden eyes stared back down at her, hatred mingling with amusement in their depths.

_Sith._

"Well, hello there, _Jedi_," her ancient opponent mumbled. Intrepid had no sufficient time to move before her throat was suddenly in an impenetrable grip, her airways cut off as the Sith held her in the air.

The Dark Side swirled about, singing maladroit howls of more death. The atmosphere burned about her as red blaster bolts from thrice-accursed droids _massacred_ the rebel slaves.

Intrepid kicked her feet, struggling in the Sith's grip, urgently needing, desperate to get to the dying rebels, desperate to end the malevolent screams and at least preserve one life.

She had led them to this fools escapade, and she could not let them die without knowing that she had at least led_ one_ out successfully.

"No!" She choked, almost screaming with the pains that she felt in the force from those around her. Screaming from frustration, confusion, abhorrence, _defeat._ The Sith below her, dotted by several black pinpoints, laughed callously.

"What's wrong Jedi, don't you remember Courascant? As I recall, it hasn't changed all that much, this _is_ a daily thing here," she mocked. Intrepid scrabbled at the invisible coil about her breathing tube.

Her flesh burned with hatred, with fury, purring, aching_ rage_…She screamed and fought, ignoring her vision, which was slowly bleeding into darkness. Blast, if only she had brought her lightsaber! And what was a Sith doing here, anyway? They did not come to solve such trivial matters as a slave revolt, not unless it was a big and sub consequently big one.

"Are they all dead yet?" She heard a familiar voice ask, after a moment. Her vision split and started to fade when suddenly, she was dropped. Intrepid crumbled to her knees. Choking and gasping, she gripped her throat, burning for lack of air, and shook her head dizzily. "Yes, the droids took care of them_, all_ of them," she looked up, to see Margo peek his head in through a slot that had mysteriously appeared out of the wall.

_Traitor_, she thought. Her teeth clenched. She refused to look around and see what the force already told her. There was no one left alive. No _one_. Not even Cain. "Sith spit," She snapped, defiantly, as the other meeting members emerged from their hole. Cowardly toads. "I thought it was against the Jedi way to disrespect your elders," Intrepid froze, and inhaled sharply at that voice.

_No, no, no. It can't be true. It's not true. _

The Force, in all its mercy, deigned to show her wrong. It _was _true; En-lai stepped out of the same hole, and smiled at her, the ice in his eyes now malicious, instead of compassionate.

She shook her head, slowly. It wasn't real. It couldn't be_. "E-En-lai?"_ she wavered, in a whisper. He smiled at her, and this time the smile was cruel, instead of kind. She felt a shiver run down her spine, now propelled by something much more dangerous than desire.

"You…You _betrayed_ us?" She gasped out. En-lai shrugged and crossed his arms dispassionately. "Well, of course. How else was I supposed to become a master if I did not prove my worth?" He wondered, conversationally.

Intrepid gawked, her mind refused, refused, _refused _to believe such a thing. This was En-lai, her lover, her other half, he would never betray them; betray her…he _loved_ her. Yet the evidence stood across from her, smug and smiling.

Margo walked over and put a fatherly hand on En-lai's shoulder, sending a shudder of revulsion through her. The Sith stood behind, arms crossed, stance defensive, saber within reach. Intrepid was too shocked to put up any sort of resistance as the droids came forward. "But…But W-why? How could you?" She stammered.

"We made a pact, little lady, long before you ever came along. In exchange for me making him a part of my master mind team, he'd be my own personal spy within the slave ranks," _no._

"And imagine, not only did I become part of the rebellion, thanks to you, but found a whole host of wanted_ Jedi_ living on Courascant!" En-lai laughed. Intrepid's blood ran cold. "You_ lied_ to me," she whispered as two metallic hands grabbed her forearms with a none-too-gentle grip. The Sith kicked her in the back, yet Intrepid barely felt it.

"I loved you, I _trusted _you, and you lied to me!" She said, hoarsely. She could not believe it; he had lied. He had lied. En-lai, she loved him…Force, she had given up the Jedi for him and he was a spy all along! Everyone who had died; had died because she had trusted En-lai.

She had murdered them with her own folly. She had given En-lai all her secrets, and he had been a spy. She was so _stupid_. Fury overcame all else in a second. "You-you sorry piece of scum! YOU LIED TO ME!" She roared, suddenly lunging forward.

The droids grip was too strong, though she fought, wriggled and screamed. Boiling hot magma raced through her veins. The Force ran uncontrolled about her, howling its tempest rage.

"I trusted you! I loved you! I _trusted_ you!" She screamed, as they took her sway. Probably to the Sith Palace to be tortured to death. She could feel no fear past the empty husk that was her steaming heart.

She had_ never_loved anyone like she had loved En-lai, like she still loved him, she had never trusted someone so much… "Attachment is not the Jedi Way," The Sith taunted cruelly.

The irony of those words seemed like a preordained slap from the Force. Intrepid suddenly went weak and limp, staring at En-lai blankly, with irrevocable grief. He only continued to smirk at her, unrepentant of how he had twisted her heart around in a ball to meet his twisted wants.

And people had died because of it.

"You lied to me," she whispered again, as they dragged her away to die. She welcomed death. What was life, without En-lai? She blinked away tears as her chest jumped with suppressed sobs. "He_ lied_ to me," she whispered to herself, willing the jumping object in her chest to cease wailing.

The truth could be denied, yet it was still the same. She had been duped by the blindness of love. This was why attachment was forbidden, because all it brought was pain.

The door closed, and the bodies of her friends, the rebels so dedicated to their cause, were sealed away in the same vault as her corrupted love, her misplaced sweetheart. En-lai had not only lied to her, betrayed the rebels, and duped them all; he had broken her heart and spirit, as well.


	42. It died, Ani

_Pretty grueling stuff this chapter. Not for the squeamish or soft-hearted. Sorry everyone, but this is going to hurt. _

_~Queen Yoda_

* * *

~Darth Vader's POV~

It had been nearly a year since Darth Vader had attacked the home of Anakin Skywalker. Several months, and one more would make a full year. Still, he had failed his master; he had no clue where the Skywalker's could be hiding, his clone and his pathetic family.

He sincerely had no clue.

Until the day that Deathdera called him. Darth Vader stood in front of the holo-gram as Deathdera bowed low. He was the superior one, only subject to bow to Dooku or Sidious, his father.

The closest thing he had; the man he wished to please. The man who wanted his clone, instead of him. He had been created for one reason, and it was ultimately to find Anakin Skywalker. He had been created for Anakin. That was the rage in his soul, the irritation behind his steps.

He was created to find his original.

"We found them," well, he had not been expecting that. Darth Vader cocked an eyebrow, but his expression of boredom did not pass. "Have you?" He doubted it. He had covered most of the outer and mid rim by now.

Wherever these pests were, they were not in the predictable-or even unpredictable- places. "Well, actually, we found one of them. Intrepid Camber, living in the underground on Courascant," _Courascant?_ What Jedi would be idiotic enough to travel there?

"Our intelligence tells us that she said the other Jedi are living here as well, though she did not specify where. I think you might want to return home, Darth Vader," she said.

Apparently, Skywalker was that particular idiot. Vader shook his head at the pure folly of it, and returned to the matter at hand. He had not found the Jedi himself. Master Sidious would not be pleased.

Unless Vader brought the Jedi's head back as a gift… "Detain this Padawan," he ordered. "Until my arrival. I wish to interrogate her_…Privately_. I am on my way," she bowed once more. "Yes, master," She harrumphed, smoothly, before the transmission ended. Vader turned, and prepared for a long journey back to Courascant.

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

Padme was sick again. All over the bathroom floor, too. She had been this way, morning sickness, nausea, exhaustion, and stomach pains for the past few weeks. It was almost as bad as when she had been pregnant with Luke and Leia.

Anakin had suggested she go see a doctor, but Padme was obstinate in her refusal_. "A stomach flu, Ani,"_ she had told him with a wave of her hand. _"I'll be fine soon," _Anakin was starting to doubt that.

He sighed and dumped the mass of towels he had used to scrub the floors clean into a laundry basket on his way past.

He could easily sense that Padme was hiding something; she seemed more on edge, studying him for long periods of time before she'd lapse into gloomy, pensive silence.

Anakin was tempted to ask what exactly she was hiding, but he did not want to disturb the fragile balance they had between them for the sake of the twins, who were glad to have Padme back to themselves, since she had decided to take a break from work for awhile.

Still, she was confined to bed most of the day anyway, and he knew she was grudging about it, but he needed someone to watch the house while he was at work, so why not Shantra?

Her review of the food at the _Flying Rotisserie_ had gotten Shantra an extra boost of money, and so she also had decided to take a little vacation. Mostly to help him, Anakin assumed.

She was a good friend. So she stayed at the house, keeping an eye out for Luke and Leia, cleaning, and doing the house chores for bed-ridden Padme.

He had hoped the two would become friends, but even Shantra seemed to have a grudge against Padme now. Just what he needed, sure.

"Feeling any better?" he inquired as he walked into their room. Padme was settled on the bed, one arm thrown over her eyes to hide the dizzying light.

"Is the world spinning to anyone else?" Padme groaned in answer. Anakin chuckled softly. "Nope, it's just you. Do you want me to get you some medicine?" he asked. Padme shook her head and took away her arm, sitting up to squint at him. Her hair was adorably mussed.

"No, no, Ani, don't worry about it. It'll all pass in time. Are you about to go to work?" She wondered. Anakin nodded. "Is _she _downstairs again?" Padme demanded, grumpily. Anakin nodded again and crossed his arms.

"She's taking the twins out shopping today though," he offered, trying to be helpful. "So the house will be quiet," he said. Padme nodded and sunk against the pillows, sighing. "Wonderful, now she's stealing my twins," she grumbled. "Padme…" he began.

"No, no, don't say it. Just go. I'll be alright later. I just need a little sleep, a little quiet and a little water. Force, I miss the water, Naboo is so nice this time of year," she mumbled.

"So is Tatooine," Anakin joked. Padme gave him a dubious look. "Tatooine doesn't have different seasons. It's all the same. Stupid planet," she harrumphed. Anakin had to agree with her statement on that one. "Well, we can always pretend like it could be," Anakin considered.

Padme shook her head. "No, we can't. Until someone beheads Jabba, which I really wish someone would do already, that planet will be a scum place for the rest of eternity, and beyond. Remind me in the future some time that we have to go to Tatooine and…Destroy immortality and the rest of the nonsense," she ordered.

Anakin snickered and leaned over to kiss her forehead. A small smile played on Padme's lips, though it quickly vanished into a grimace. She sobered in the force. "I will," he promised.

"I'll see you tonight," he said. Padme waved him off. Anakin thumped down the stairs. "I'm going," he announced as he waltzed into the kitchen. He grabbed a slice of already made toast from the counter.

"Padme is up in bed, that flu has her bed-ridden still," he told Shantra, at the oven cooking up more bacon. The twins sat at the table, coloring. "I'll be sure to leave her to her vomiting in peace," Shantra remarked emotionlessly. Anakin sighed. "Be nice," he ordered. Shantra shrugged indifferently. Anakin doubted she would be nice.

"Alright then. Bye, Luke, see ya Leia. Be good and don't bother your mother too much, okay?" he said, giving both hurried kisses on the forehead. "Okay, fatha," they chirped in unison.

"I'm gonna make you a pretty picture," Leia told him determinedly, squinting at said picture with great concentration. Anakin grinned. "I'm sure it'll be lovely," he agreed. With that completed, and with a final wave, he and Artoo headed back into the early dawn morning, unknowing of that afternoon's coming catastrophe.

**_Later:_**

~Padme's POV~

Anakin thought it was a stomach flu. He trusted her word for the sake of their new-found truce, strained and unspoken, but there. Why was it then, that Padme felt so alone? So…Useless in what was supposed to be her own home?

She closed her eyes, and on the other side of her eyelids, Jiro haunted her dreams. She had not seen him in weeks, partly that was purposeful. She was somewhat glad that this sickness prevented her from leaving the house. Or, what she_ told_ them was sickness.

She was a liar, and she was glad Anakin was too preoccupied staying in her good graces to sense the life growing within her. Maybe he already had. But then why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't he accused her for the traitor she was?

Shantra was downstairs, cooking her children breakfast. Padme hated that woman by the day. They had not spoken to one another, yet she could feel Shantra's barely disguised resentment towards her as well.

_What am I even doing in this bed? I bet all the nights I wasn't here they slept in it together,_ Padme thought angrily. She shuddered at the idea and leaned back. It seemed Shantra was at home here, and though Padme loathed to admit it, Shantra did a very fine job with the twins.

Her children would have a mother figure the times they were with Anakin. _How would that even work, what with him going on mission all the time?_ She wondered, as if she was sure she was going to accept Jiro's proposal.

She had not spoken a word of it to Anakin yet, whether this was because of fear, cowardice, dread or guilt she did not know.

She groaned and rolled to her side, hugging the pillow to her chest. Her heart was still torn in two. How could she _leave_ Anakin? She had been evaluating him and Jiro in her mind for weeks, watching him and comparing them. Yet neither seemed better than the other. They were equal. So who did she love more?

She did not know.

Padme groaned again, and realized that what she had assumed to be heart agony was turning out to be excruciating stomach pain. She held her midsection, hard with the new life, and felt vomit slither up her throat again.

_Not again,_ she thought, running to the fresher for the fourth time that morning. She buried her head in the toilet when it happened. Sudden, rippling pain, sharp and _bloodcurdling_, began to ache deep in the flesh of her bowels.

Padme clenched her teeth tight, and held her stomach, moaning softly. Force, she had not felt this much pain since she had birthed Luke and Leia. And certainly not while she was _pregnant._

The agony swept from her midsection to the rest of her body. Red pinpoints swam in front of her eyes like tadpoles in a stream. Padme leaned against the toilet, in too much pain even to scream, as she felt like doing. She rolled into a tight ball, sweating with the prickles of rapidly spreading pain.

_What's happening to me?_ She speculated, as even thought splintered into a kaleidoscope of scattered fragments, blinded by pain.

Her lungs began to work overtime, struggling to keep in rhythm with her desperate pants. A sense of panicked helplessness shot through her.

It felt as if some great divination were punishing her with a random act of evil voodoo. Was this the effects of betrayal? The colossal hand of justice bearing down to punish her for her treachery?

Would it kriffing _kill _her already, if that was what it meant to do? Padme gasped raggedly, in too much agony even to scream _out_ her pain. If she could, she would scream, for Jiro, for Anakin, for Nava, for anyone…even _Shantra_ to come help her, to come ease this pain, yet no one was there.

The light overhead began to blur together until they were one great light at the end of a long tunnel. Without consent, everything else vanished except that light in the distance. Padme was rushed towards it like a runaway train, and when she hit it, the real pain begun.

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

Anakin had not used the force in nearly a year, yet he was the Chosen One because he didn't _have_ to use it. The force used _him_.

So that was why he knew that he had no choice but to drop everything when sudden, hot, fiery panic shot through him, burning every fiber in his veins with fright, sometime in the late afternoon.

Anakin dropped the tools he had been in his hands, which he had previously been subject to his debate, and bolted back for home. _Padme._ He had no clue what was wrong with her, but something was.

Something bad.

His heart screamed in his chest as he threaded his way through the small afternoon crowds, past the occasional Empire droid as he made his way back home. He basically used the force to _smash _the door ajar and shot inside. The Force told him, in a whisper of pumping blood, where she was. He was up the stairs in a second.

"Padme?" He called urgently as he stopped outside of the closed bathroom door. There was no sound on the other side. The Force was… Unbalanced, with the stench of served irony and foul death. He halted, afraid of what he would see inside. Padme was still alive, he could sense that much, but…There was another someone in there with her. Dead.

_Do it_, the force whispered, as his eyes strayed to the button to open the door. Anakin's heart hammered in his ribs, and he knew, with every stitch of knowing in him, that he did not want to see what he had to see.

Yet he was the Chosen One; and the Force deigned he see it, so he pushed the button.

Inside, on the floor, sat Padme Amidala, on her knees. Around her was a puddle of blood, still spreading like a tidal wave of grief. Padme had her hands wrapped around her shoulders as she stared, unblinking, at the floor.

Anakin inhaled sharply, unable to move. Padme looked up with haunted, tear-filled eyes. When she saw him, she shook her head, slowly.

"It died," she whispered, in an anguished, small, and hoarse whisper. "It died, Ani," she sounded so tiny, like she was Leia's age. Anakin had never seen a miscarriage before, but he knew one when he saw it. It was sort of hard not to know. He stood there, paralyzed, barley breathing.

It was not his. He knew that much. They had not done that in months.

Time ticked by, centuries passed, the sun dipped lower in the sky, taking the dead child's spirit with it to the netherworlds beyond them. _We are luminous beings, not this gross matter._

Silence lay between them, breaking and tearing at them both. Padme bowed her head, and brown locks floated into the still slithering blood. She offered nothing else.

Anakin could not move, knew not what to do, what to feel. He felt numb, and his brain could only whisper the truth, the truth that was from the force. It hadn't been his.

After centuries and decades passed in silence, horrible silence, the door downstairs opened. "Ace?" Shantra called, sounding vexed.

The spell broke on neither of them; her voice brought back no recollections from the outside world. Anakin could not move, was not sure if he breathed or even lived still. Thumps carried throughout the house as Shantra came upstairs.

"There you are!" Shantra exclaimed once she saw him standing there. She started walking forward; oblivious to what had happened. "Your children have gone mad on me. They struck up the mother of all rackets in the middle of the store, howling and screaming, claiming that they felt something bad happen. They're still howling, to think of it. They say they felt someone die in the Force. What are they…?" She stepped into the doorway beside him, and her eyes grew wide when she saw Padme sitting there.

A tiny gasp escaped her lips. The force rippled with her added shock. Padme did not look up. "It died," she whispered again, in explanation. Another timed silence.

The spell broke, and Anakin was pulled back into reality, a place where there was light, sound, and…And traitors.

"Shantra," he said; his voice no louder than the wind. He did not want to disturb this moment, want to desecrate a marked place of death.

"Go handle the twins," he ordered. Shantra, who had put a hand on his arm to steady herself, nodded numbly. "Y-yes. I will. I'll get some towels, too," she added, and like a scared rabbit, bolted back downstairs.

Anakin walked, one foot at a time, hesitantly, into the room where all things died. He stood over Padme, his boots splashing the red body fluid like rain puddles. Gruesome, horrible, treacherous, unfair…

I'm sorry," he whispered.

Padme looked up at him, her mouth hanging open. Her bottom lip trembled, and he saw her eyes were blank, as if she did not know who he was.

"I died, Ani," she murmured again. Anakin dropped to his knees beside her, and ignoring the blood, or the fact that it…It hadn't been his, took Padme into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. Padme buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing. "My baby. My b-baby. It died. It _died_," she murmured against his shirt, Anakin nodded and held her against him, giving all the strength he could while he could.

He guessed that they had all died that day.


	43. Ventress for one, rescue for two

~Ahsoka's POV~

Ahsoka, by this time, was quite used to her minions bringing her filth. Not in the other metaphorical ways it was used; not filth as in incorrect information, or jumbled excuses, garbage from a trash shoot, nor any other way to say it. No, _filth_. Pure, true and undisguised filth. The soul inside of the men they brought their high and mighty drug queen? They were filth, from inside out.

That was why, one day, they brought her Ventress.

Ahsoka had been strangely unsurprised when they dragged the indignant yet docile she-witch into the room. She had stood; her mask still in place, force-signature hidden, and inside, something clicked.

She had not had the pleasure of laying eyes upon her old enemy in years. She had not even been aware Ventress was even alive; the Jedi had assumed she was eradicated by Dooku's order. Or, at least, that was what their spies had brought them.

Then again, rumors were incredibly different from the harsh and uncaring truth. Partly in due to the fact that they had found Ventress doing nothing wrong, by typical standards (She had just made the mistake of walking through uncharted territory; gang territory.)

Added to the fragment of curiosity, (how had Ventress survived the purge of all force-sensitive's that did not pledge their lives to the Sith? And why_ hadn't_ Ventress pledged her life to the Sith?) then, the greater part of it was that Ventress had once saved Ahsoka.

So, she ordered the guards away, foolishly. "If she so much as pushes a toe out of the door without me, kill her," she ordered the two befuddled men, who stared at her idiotically before they nodded and vanished, silently.

Ventress, on her knees before Ahsoka, snapped her head up. She had wrist binders on, nothing Ahsoka knew she could not handle. A gag and blindfold about her eyes and mouth, and several bruises, cuts and scars aligned her tightly wrapped body. Ahsoka stepped down from her pedestal.

"Ahsoka Tano," the name was foreign to her, and frightening. It personified a different life, a different person. "No, Air Raid," she corrected. Ventress let out a soft cackle. "Air Raid? Who gave you_ that_ name?" She scoffed. Ahsoka ignored the question, unwilling to bask in the memory of it.

"So," Ventress continued, lithely. "I suppose you survived the Last Battles. Along with that pathetic group of yours, I suspect. Too bad, I'd have been ecstatic to hear of your deaths," Ahsoka was very tempted to slap her. Someone close to Ahsoka had died that day, on that battlefield of flames and screams. Master Plo. Was he still with her?

No, he was with Ahsoka Tano, not Air Raid.

"My only question is, what are you doing here?" Ventress inquired, still on her knees. She appeared completely relaxed in Ahsoka's presence, as if she suspected safety in the same room as a Jedi.

If only she knew; Ahsoka Tano might have felt some compassion for this…This_ despoliation_ of both Light and Dark, the Force itself, but not Air Raid.

"Undercover work," she replied, smoothly. "What are you doing on my land?" It was her land now, hers. _Hers._ "Your land?" Ventress sniffed, sourly. "I was not aware you had your name on it," she remarked.

"You should have been. You are lucky I have not enacted a fiat on trespassers yet. I'm thinking about coming up with the bill now. It's called 'kill all who dare enter'," she threatened, with every bit of sourness Ventress used.

It felt good, to finally say something back to the she-witch. To compensate her for every insult she had thrown at Ahsoka. Jedi did not give into pitiful insults, did not let the burning rage of their enemy's scar mind or body, but she could.

She would. This was her land. She could do as she wished. The unbridled freedom of doing what she wanted, and not what justice demanded, felt like rapture.

"Catchy," Ventress quipped, though she had stiffened. _Not so safe as you think, huh, you hairless harpy? _"Jedi do not murder mere trespassers. I've been out of town for awhile, the boundaries have expanded, I see. Let me go and I'll be on my way," let her go? That didn't seem like a lot of fun.

Ahsoka pretended to think about it. "No," she decided. Ventress stiffened more. Her back straightened, as if she had something to be proud of, as if she deserved the dignity she did not radiate necessarily in the force, but as a person. "Why not?" She demanded huffily.

"Because I said so," was not it wonderful? She did not have to have a reason to do stuff like this anymore. No warrant from some stupid senate, no investigation by some expired council, just _her_ word…Her word against the worlds.

Ventress was silent a moment. Ahsoka fell into the silence as well. She had expected that, if she ever got a chance to say whatever she so liked to Ventress, she would have a whole torrent of things to rant, but now that she was here, she was utterly speechless.

"Is this how far the mighty Jedi have fallen? I thought it was against your code…" Ahsoka interrupted, curtly. "And what would you care about our code, Ventress? You deserted it long ago for the sake of revenge. So do not try to condemn me for doing the same in the name of justice," she warned, sharply.

Another silence. They faced each other, though one was standing, face covered, and the other was on bended knees, eyes blinded. Somehow, Ahsoka felt as if they were in an intense battle, equal in defensive stances.

"Justice is not betrayal," Ventress sighed, softly. Ahsoka found herself staggered by this answer. "Justice is necessity, necessity sometimes requires betrayal," she replied, without hesitation.

She had spent enough nights thinking through the morals of her identity fabrication, thank you very much, Ventress. "Justice and integrity walk hand in hand," Ventress countered. "Integrity does not place lies under the pretense of sin all of the time," Ahsoka delivered her answer with perfect grace.

"But it places demoralization under the greatest of tragedies," yes, well. "And under the most noble of sacrifices," she was stubborn in her belief. Why did Ventress care, anyhow? Or was she only pretending to care?

Her prisoner sighed deeply. Was not that odd and ironic? She had been Ventress's prisoner often enough, yet now it was the other way. She knew very well that Ventress could stand and fight her way out alive if she so wanted. What kept her there, at Ahsoka's feet, then? Handcuffed, and blindfolded? That was a direct affront to Sithly pride.

"You're making a _mistake_, kid," very interesting. Ahsoka folded her arms over her chest, starting to feel uncomfortable. "Trust me, I _know_. You think you can turn around and be the way you were. Become the flawless Jedi after so much horror and appalling things, because that's what you're trained to do, right? It's for justice isn't it? No one is trained to give up themselves," had Ventress read her mind? She could not have.

"We're in war. We're in hiding. We have to be able to," she stated, neutrally. "War," Ventress scoffed out, without much enthusiasm. "Big kriffing deal, you think you Jedi are the only truth-seekers ever stuck in a force-forsaken war? The point of the matter is; what are you willing to do to win this war?" Ventress continued, and her question rippled faintly in the back of Ahsoka's mind. What was she willing to do to win this war? Any war, internal or external?

Was she willing to _lose_ herself?

Shouldn't she be?

"That's what's destroying you Jedi. You are willing to do anything, give up anything, _sacrifice _anything, even yourselves, for victory. Stupid mongrels. At least a coward fights to live another day," She said, no high esteem for Sith in her eyes. Curious thing, that.

"Then why didn't you join the Sith again?" Ahsoka asked. Her prisoner snapped her mouth shut, and narrowed her lips, mouth pressed tight. Ahsoka waited, patiently. After all, Ventress was not going anywhere anytime soon. Neither was she; she had no other intelligent life form to speak with here.

"I know what I am," was the final answer, spoken hesitantly. "And what is that?" Ahsoka wondered. Ventress gave a shrug. "A hunter," she answered.

A faint tickle of an idea, suggesting that this predator status might be why she and Ventress were so alike crawled into the depths of her mind. She ignored the suggestion. "So are many Sith," Ahsoka pointed out.

"Sith are murderers. Black holes. Victims. Madmen. Tyrants, all of the above. They don't hunt, they stalk, and then murder, not kill. There's a difference. You should know that by now," she surmised. Ahsoka did know the difference, and the fact that she did terrified her. She should be ignorant of such knowledge.

Yet she was not.

She was done with this conversation. It was bringing back too many shattered pieces of Ahsoka. "Give me one good reason why I should let you go," she dared. Ventress chuckled. "What's wrong? My company detestable to you now, _Air Raid_?" She inquired, innocently.

The name, though others had been speaking it for so many months, sounded like acid and felt like a burn on her heart. They had forced her to become this. "Your existence is detestable to the very air we _breathe_, Ventress," Ahsoka replied starkly.

"Cheeky brat," Ventress grumbled. "And I have a better answer. I'll give the _only _reason you should let me go," Ahsoka cocked an eyebrow underneath the mask, curious to the substance of this answer. "You're a Jedi," well, then. Once, that might have worked. Once, that was true.

Was it still?

Ahsoka stepped forward and extended her dagger. She knelt before her prisoner. Ventress's eyes were covered, but she could still sense how closely Ahsoka had gotten. She leaned back a bit, wary, unsure of whether she had overstepped her fragile line, exposing tender flesh.

Ahsoka put her dagger close to that flesh, over the windpipe that she had dreamt of slashing in her darker moments. She thought of it again now.

_I could kill her. I should._ She thought, considering. She could sense the fear coming off Ventress; that cursed emotion she had spread and created so many times.

Ventress had enjoyed other people's pain, she had enjoyed killing them, innocent people. She had _loved_ the thrill of trying to kill Ahsoka, and Anakin, of bringing the gentle Jedi Order to their star-forsaken knees. Ventress gulped, and Ahsoka smiled, grimly_. I should kill her. It'd be right, and somewhat fair._

Yet, she did not_ want_ too.

With a graceful flick of her hands, she had cut the ropes around Ventress's wrists, and stood. She extended a hand down to her old enemy as Ventress yanked her blindfold off, panting lightly with unhidden anxiety.

Ventress glanced at her hand, still on one knee, and said nothing. She made no move to grab it. Shock rolled off her in waves.

Ahsoka blinked, calmly, underneath the mask, which she did not remove. She had won something today, a feeling of triumph, a flicker of hope sprouted. Maybe she wasn't a monster.

She did not want to kill; she had not stopped feeling that revulsion at the sight of death, not yet. She wasn't like Ventress. At the same time, she had lost something.

She had realized that she had begun to go down that road, and she had no idea how to stop what was already in motion.

Beastly pride flickered between them, along with that string of understanding. Ventress ignored the hand and stood herself, rubbing her chafed wrists. Ahsoka crossed her arms. "Go," she ordered, softly.

Ventress nodded, gave her a slight smile of thanks, repugnant and Machiavellian as it was, and vanished, leaving no external evidence of the good she had done that day, or motives behind the assassin's life.

* * *

~Intrepid's POV~

Intrepid had never cried like this before, not in her relatively short lifetime. Now, Jedi reserve, dignity and detachment could not save her from the overwhelming pain she felt.

The light could not reach her, could not pull her from the bottom of eternal nighttime she had stumbled into. How could the pure notions of love, the heart-wrenching feelings of compassionate affection lead to this…This unspeakable _agony_? What God had cursed her with this rage? Intrepid screamed; not of her own accord.

Her heart was bursting with these emotions of anguish and hurt. Yet every scream only brought back the memories of carnage, of unimaginable holocaust. Could not he had just killed her? Couldn't the _damned_ boy just have killed her?

Why had he felt the need to wrench the light from her and snuff it out, as easily as one slays out a flicker of fire? Had not it already been a roaring waterfall of flames, the light in her soul? How had it been eradicated so quickly, and by only one person?

The internal mindset of Intrepid, once filtered with light, innocence still hidden in the folds of Jedi tradition, hope still visible in the files of Jedi history, and the dignity shining through the eyes of the Jedi apprentice, was dead. Dead, the same sort of dead as her soul, where she wanted to die in the physical sense if only it stopped the pain.

_ Merciful force; please the pain. _

Some part of her knew that she should not have been crying. She was being delivered to the Sith Palace, as a prisoner to be tortured for everything she knew.

She should be trying to escape; she should be meditating, preparing herself for the time to come. However, Intrepid did not care what they did to her. She did not care what they got out of her. Kriff it all, she did not care about _anything_.

_He lied to me. He betrayed me. He was __**using **__me. _

The entire kriffing time. Why had not the force warned her? Why had not she seen? Intrepid had trusted him; she had_ trusted_ En-lai more than anyone.

She would have given her life for him. She curled in tighter, hugging her knees to her chest, and carelessly wept.

She was alone, she was a failure, a disgrace, a traitor, a widow, a corpse, a…What did it matter? What did anything matter anymore? There was no reason to live, not without En-lai. The same man who had betrayed her… What had she done wrong? Hadn't he loved her?

She welcomed the idea of death. Grief, rage, disbelief, pain, and sorrow ravaged her body, gnawing at the linings of mind and thought, conscious and morals.

She wept, yearning for the touch of a hand, for Nava, for Ahsoka, for the Jedi, the temple; she yearned for a time when she had believed Jedi were literally incapable of love.

_ Won't anyone help me?_ She wondered, drowning in the muck of anguish and despair. Could anyone help her? Would anyone? Without En-lai…

Suddenly, the Force, twisting and wringing with torrents of icy rain, or neverending angst, gave a jolt. Or was that the cell she had been placed in inside of the Sith tank?

Metal walls enclosing her, chilled her skin to match her heart. Darkness smothering what once was light, placing its chains on wrists that had thenceforth been free.

Intrepid shook her head and buried her head in her knees again, tears falling soundlessly down her face. They were running, her reserves drying. Her head throbbed dully with the immeasurable ferociousness of her crying. She sniffled, and assumed that they had arrived_. _

_ Maybe if I just grab her lightsaber, I can end it all right now,_ Intrepid contemplated, and the idea of death was so enthralling that she looked up, almost excited for the chance, the reckless, bold, and sinful chance at the end of pain.

If she could just grab the lightsaber and ignite it, ram the weapon through her heart or head, then everything would be fine. Her hands clenched, imagining the feel of the sacred weapon, though nor her own, in her hands, and the life-ending powers it possessed.

She was so excited about this she missed the sounds of scuffle outside of the tank,. The small yelps of pain, and the sound of blaster bolts caressing metal, the scream of droids calling for reinforcements. The Sith igniting a saber, only for the duel to cut brutally short. She missed all of this, for nothing felt real.

Then the door opened.

Intrepid blinked several times in the light, adjusting her eyes again. After a moment, her vision cleared, and she found herself shocked out of wits, language, grammar, and the knowledge of how to use her tongue.

"What?" Cece demanded, putting her hands on her hips. She gave Intrepid an uneasy, and slight friendly smile. Aziza, Azari, and Dame all appeared behind her shoulder, and grinned shyly. Intrepid was struck dumb.

She stared. "You didn't think we'd just let them _have_ you, now did you," Cece stopped, cocked her head and now the spark of friendly became a flame. "Master _Jedi_?"

* * *

Everyone keep a look out for Ventress, she was always one of my favorite characters, and she'll be back, though I think you'll be surprised at what she'll be doing when again we see her..

~Queen Yoda


	44. Rock bottom

**_Later:_**

~Padme's POV~

She had not moved in two days. She had not spoken in that time, either. The ceiling above spun, lazily, slowly, like the gyrating lure of a lullaby. Suited to her, Padme believed, for most of the time she slept, and dreamed.

Dreamed of Jiro, dreamed of Anakin, dreamed of the twins, dreamed of…Of it. Her. Him. Whichever it would have been. Life inside of the household, she assumed, had returned to its regular pace. The twins had been dismissed with the excuse that she was still dreadfully sick, and the death they had felt in the Force was a rat dying.

Not her baby.

Anakin still visited her, often. He did not speak much; in fact he had not spoken more than one word to her since that day.

She had not been_ meant_ to hear it, she knew, because it had been late at night, and she had been at the edge of sleep, that hazy curse of irritating euphoria that left you with no recollection of where you were or your outside self. That was when she had heard it, and Padme was not entirely sure it was not a dream.

Anakin had whispered; _"Why?"_

Then she had fallen into an exhausted stupor. Padme wanted to blame him for it, she really did. She wanted to blame Anakin, Jiro, Shantra, anyone….Yet she could not.

Padme could only blame herself, for everything. She knew her doing had got them into this, the blame rested on her shoulders, but she was at a loss of what she had done wrong.

What did you do when you knew you had been mistaken, but did not recognize the mistake?

Had it been the job that had torn her and Anakin apart? The monstrosity that seemed to seep through him? Jiro? Or had it been….Was it still…_Shantra_?

Was Anakin in love with Shantra? Why, then, had his very presence shook with hurt and betrayal when he had held her? Why did his eyes shine with tears of either anger of anguish whenever he turned to her?

Who did he love more?

Who did she love more?

Who did he deserve, her or Shantra?

Who did _she_ deserve, him or Jiro?

When had things gotten like this, the tangled maze of broken respect, marriage vows and shattered truths? Padme inhaled slowly, barely aware of her body. It seemed as if she were all heart now.

The organs, still sore with the miscarriage, and her brain, buzzing with light headache and sleeplessness, was only a hallucination of tangibility. Where had this all started? If she could rectify it with begging, with pleading, she would.

But they were beyond that now. She had made her mistake, and the bond was dispirited. She was a traitor, a cheater, unfaithful.

Padme was snapped out of her dismal thoughts by the sound of the door opening. She did not turn her head as the specter walked in, holding a tray of something in his hand.

Soup, it smelt like soup. Padme swiveled her eyes, willing the lazily turning ceiling above her to cease. It did, and Anakin's fuzzy figure came into view. She stared at him as if he were a stranger.

Once, they had been one. Now…_Now_ she did not know what they were.

He stared at her likewise, with eyes that smoldered with silent loathing, masked jealousy and sorrow. She had hurt him. Kriff, she had hurt him so badly, she had never seen him so dejected, socrestfallen_,_ so _defeated_.

He set down the tray at her bedside, and looked down at her, shoulders rigid, fists clenched, eyes downcast. Padme felt the tension in the air; it was time, then.

She inhaled slowly, and braced herself for the confrontation. After a long moment, where Anakin appeared to be quelling the dragon of fury within him, he let out a lengthy breath and looked up.

His eyes reflected as if they were shattered pieces of glass, twinkling with tears. "Who was it?" He whispered, hoarsely. Padme closed her eyes and exhaled again, releasing the pent up apprehension inside of her.

"Jiro," she spoke, and it felt nice, despite all that had been happening. Anakin nodded, slowly, and raised a fist to his lips, also slowly.

"It was after we left the _Flying Rotisserie_. I was…Angry, and Jiro…Comforted me," she explained, quietly, feeling as if even if he did not want to hear it, it needed to be said, and said by her mouth alone.

Anakin's mouth snapped open, then abruptly shut, his eyes burning. "Do you love him?" He asked, instead of his former question. Padme thought on this for a spell, her heart aching. Did she love Jiro…?

Not as much as she loved Anakin. Not as desperately much as she loved his kind heart, his compassionate eyes and brave mentality, not as much as she was incredibly tender towards his bright soul.

Yet, she loved Jiro. He was a beacon of light in thrashing waters, in a storm; he was her watchtower, and the rescuers coming to her aid. He was everything competent and relieving about her life right now.

"Yes," but how could she say all of that now? How she could she explain that she loved Anakin, more than the sky and democracy, and her people, and yet she had betrayed him? Why would he believe that? Why would he believe her reasons for not remaining faithful?

She had not been loyal because of why, a numbed anguish while in the presence of a handsome, honorable man who had helped her navigate the waters of this brutal time? It was not just that_ easy_. How could she explain her love for Jiro, and explain at the same time, that those two loves collided?

Anakin inhaled sharply and looked away, biting his bottom lip. He inhaled shuddering breaths a moment; and Padme had to restrain the urge to take him and smother him in loving arms, to tell him it'd be alright. Her heart panged. She would do anything-_anything_-not to hurt him anymore.

Force, if he started crying it would be _worse _than any physical torture. She would rather take physical torture, actually, than to see the amount of pain she had caused him fall out in a single drop of water.

_Kriff it all, what have I done to him? _

She made her decision. She would not continue hurting this Jedi, this _man_, and her own children. Her family. She would give her life to protect them, and their hearts from ill will.

Even if it were her own; and even if she did not necessarily die in the unembroidered sense. Or, that was not correct. You could die while your body worked and walked. Your soul could die, and some might say the former was worse than the latter.

"He asked me to marry him," _I'm so sorry, Ani. _His head snapped up, and Padme saw his cheeks were wet. "I suppose he did not know you were already _married_?" he spat, ruefully.

"He does," he had not cared. Jiro loved her; she only wished she could love him the same way. Yet she could not, not while Anakin lived. Anakin's eyes flared. "What sort of man_ does _that?" He demanded.

"Jiro," because there was no other descriptor for him. Marvelous did not have a better descriptor. "He does not sound too principled," Anakin growled.

Padme shrugged. "I suppose he would not to you," she responded. Anakin cringed, and the anger on his face slid away to reveal new grief. She was breaking his heart for the last time. The_ last_ time.

Let this pain turn to rage, and let him thrust her thought away, let the image of Padme Amidala fade into nonexistence. Force, let him be _free _from her treachery, she would do anything to see the chains she had involuntarily placed on him broken.

"Will you…" Anakin bit down on his knuckles, turned away. He wrestled his face and tone into passiveness. She had never seen him act so much like a_ Jedi_ towards her.

"Will you…Accept?" He inquired after a moment. She gulped, and the words felt as if they were chalk, which had to be drudged up from the depths of her lungs. "Would you let me?" Was there still some chance for them?

"If you wish it. If you love him," oh, apparently not.

Padme clenched her hands, slicked with sweat, and trembling underneath the covers. "I do," she ground out between clenched teeth. She had to suck in another painful breath. "I love him," oh, force. She closed her eyes, willing the vomit to stay down. She could not leave him, she loved him too much…Oh, of all the things…Blast, this _hurt_…

She could feel Anakin studying her for a long time. She was grateful that she had thought to close her eyes first, at least. She would not watch herself destroy him from the inside out.

She, in that dreadful moment of terrible waiting, dreamed of him declining it for her. She imagined what the old Anakin would have done, the Ani she had met.

He would have raged, would have screamed and shouted, refusing to let her go, telling her that she was _his_, begging her not to go, he needed her, as much as she needed him…

But that Ani was gone. He had been replaced by someone else. A Jedi.

So, in proof of this fact, controversial in its effects, he merely said "as you wish," and walked away, not looking back. She heard a door slam downstairs, and fell back on her pillows, weeping quietly.

It was done.

* * *

~Lux's POV~

There were many nights where he lost the ability to sleep. A phenomenon that had been happening to him since his father's death. Nightmares had always besieged him, moments of how his father's last moments might have been like, the thundering roar of final shots, and the cheer of the clones he had heard many times, once they were done.

Was he a turncoat for once leading those clones?

Lux had no clue, and, since his heart was at war, his mind none at ease, and his soul currently cold with emptiness, he wandered the chilly durasteel halls aimlessly, much like his life momentarily.

The halls and pathways never seemed to stop. There were a few corners to turn yes, and a loop here and there, yet…It just kept going, never ending. Was there an imminent end to the dark? Even if a warm patch, one emboldened by a sunbeam traveling in through the windows came along, how long until it ended?

How long could peace last? And could it last, perhaps…Forever? Or was peace only a temporary thing? A fleeting, lying thing?

_ Uh, snap out of it Lux! You're pondering wisdom like a Jedi! _He chided himself, as he turned another shadowy corner. The very air around him was still and quiet, the only sound his hollow footsteps. The only change in decorum the occasional door leading into a classroom, or out to the fields, or into a higher ranking person's suite.

All in all, it truly was very glum and murky, like a puzzle. Lux always had hated puzzles. He had always found them so tedious. He remembered his mother; she had absolutely adored puzzles, the large, complicated ones as well, with a hundred different colors, combinations and pieces. It had always seemed to Lux that puzzles somehow lied and tricked him.

He would find half of the equation, have half of the picture, and victory in his hands, then more pieces, more pieces, until he was so confident of his coming success he was grinning in eager expectation of charming conquer. Then…

A piece did not fit.

It was always just _one_ piece. A small piece, more than often. The tiniest one.

That was usually when Lux would discover that the entire puzzle was wrong. It was not meant to be a Gundark, no, but a griffin. However, how could so many things, so adept at appearing as a Gundark, possibly be a griffin? It had always been that _one_ piece; those tiny, miniscule details that had gotten him muddled, that thoroughly bested every trick he threw at it.

At the moment, his life was that puzzle. Where one piece just did not fit, and in proof, another ten pieces probably did not fit where he had stuck them either. All in all, he had just declared himself ineffectual at puzzles, ineffectual at life in general.

He sighed and folded his arms across his chest. Why did he feel so empty? Wasn't he only supposed to feel like a weakling? After all, he had only lost a digit, a symbol of strength in some eyes. What king was not strong?

_ "A good one, dear son,"_ Lux froze in place, his very lungs and legs ceasing in mid-air. He knew that voice, after so many years, how could he have forgotten that voice, of all voices? He had yearned and missed him so much, and not even the memory of that adored visage had begun to fade, such was the love Lux had-did-feel.

He turned, and before him, was his father. The same auburn hair, streaked with small curls of gray. The brilliant eyes, any color at all in certain lights, and the large, compact shoulders and robust body. Despite Lux having grown, and now his height towered over most people, his father still loomed over him, like a god. Lux's legs quivered. What…How…?

"F-father?" he gasped out. His father blinked, amusement curling in the crows feet in the corners of his eyes_. "What? Were you expecting your mother?"_ He asked. This time Lux really did collapse to his knees. His father…His… His…Tears blurred Lux's vision, and he barely noticed his jaw hanging open. This was a vision, a hallucination, a figment of frazzled imagination; it had to be!

"Y-you're…You're dead. You're dead!" he croaked, and even breathing felt like a chore. His father chuckled, and the royal cloak situated on his shoulders seemed to flare with his mirth. The crown, still golden, rested on his head. He was still king, even in death.

_ "Does your heart tell you so?"_ He inquired, as if asking after the weather. Lux then decided he could not believe his eyes, much less his _heart_. He shook his head, slowly.

Why was his mind doing this to him? Didn't he feel enough pain? Why did he have to befall recollection of the fact that he would never see that tall figurate again, never ride upon those colossal shoulders?

_ "Right, idiot question. Your heart is just as confused as you are, Lux,"_ said boy spluttered, torn between disbelief, indignance and-just as his father had said-confusion.

His hands curled into fists on the metal beneath him, and suddenly the entire universe faded out of existence, and was replaced with an obscure sort of reality, quite like the shift between wakefulness and slumber.

Now, I was only him and his father.

A tear ran down his cheek, and the playfulness in his father's eyes vanished, replaced by solemnity. _"Oh, my boy,"_ he knelt, on one knee, like he used to when he bandaged Lux's bruised shins. _"My dear, brave boy," _a ghostly ha nd reached out, as real as it had been in life, but wavered before it could touch his cheek. There were tears in his father's eyes as well.

_ "My grown-up boy. You've been through so much,"_ Lux closed his eyes; anything but this. "I've missed you," he whispered tearfully. He felt a tepid zephyr ruffle his hair, and caress his cheek and neck affectionately. Like a mother's kiss.

_ "As have we you. Let me look at your new arm,"_ Lux, almost desperate to maintain this premonition, at the same time as yearning for it's disappearance, snatched off his protective glove and brandished the arm, head hung. "It's hideous," he whispered ashamedly. Then added: "isn't it?"

His father studied his new appendage with the air of a scholar. Lux waited, and the minutes in this clouded kingdom stretched on longer than reality's clock could ever_. "No,"_ said his father, at last. Lux found this even more incredulous than the fact that his dead parent was even there. _"I think it's beautiful,"_ he countered.

Lux scoffed. "It's fake," he pointed out.

_ "It is a scar. A replacement for something lost in an act of heroism, a_ _meritorious act,"_ corrected the previous ruler, looking up with eyes not to be contradicted. Lux gulped. "Some might say idiocy," he managed to squeeze out under those penetrating eyes.

His father chuckled deeply_. "I suppose,"_ he agreed, warmheartedly. As if all opinions, even those that did not agree with him, gave him great joy. _"Yet I call it an act of heroism. I would say you are a hero,"_ he stated. "Not a king?" Lux remarked, sourly.

_ "We all have our callings, Lux,"_ ah, so he could not be a king._ "I never said you cannot. I merely meant that you are not. It…It isn't you," _of course not. "Why not?" Lux demanded, sharper than he had meant too. "I can do it. I can be something else. I will be the greatest king these people have ever known!" He stopped, grabbed a hold of his buried, unknown anger, exhaled, little by little.

_ "They have not seen many kings, Lux,"_ his father pointed out, bluntly. _"And why do you desire the power of a sovereign anyhow? Why can't you accept anything less?"_ he asked, curiously.

"I was not born to be anything less," Lux replied, calmer now_. "You were born to be Lux Bonteri,"_ Lux Bonteri was not good enough. Lux Bonteri was an orphan, a one-armed child, a deserter of morals and strife. Lux Bonteri was not what he wanted to be. Not anymore. He would be greater.

"I was born to be _king_ Lamar Rai," and a king he would be. The greatest king in the underground. He would rid the streets of crime, he would finally make this place worth living, he would…he would…

_ "You want to devote yourself to others so you will not pay attention to your own pain,"_ his father smiled, sadly. _"Your own weaknesses. You are _hiding,_ king Lamar,"_ Lux inhaled sharply. He gulped, suddenly feeling very vulnerable, and extremely exposed. "Father, I don't…"

_ "Think so? Well, why else would I be here, Lux? I'm here to show you the last piece of the puzzle," _Spoken to with such blunt, factual knowing, Lux felt humbled.

At the same time, he felt afraid. He did not want to see his mistakes, because then…He'd have to face them. He did not want to see the error of his judgment, the reason for inexplicable emptiness inside of his very soul…

Yet he was not given a choice.

When, at last, it was over, he felt a little less empty, very lost, and even more foolish. He woke sitting on the side of the wall, facing the other side, whilst tears ran down his face. His father was gone. He had had his past rewritten into his heart, played again before his eyes, as if his life were a lesson in itself, as if he, himself, was the puzzle.

The last piece-the lost piece- was an unexplained thing that he alone could find the place too by looking back. Not forward, but back. His father would tell him something was wrong with him, but not what, not the difference. Not this time.

There was one difference though, from the time when he had started walking in the cold, dark, and desolate halls till now, when the….Vision? Had gone. The ghost? The Guardian?

There was light shining through the window, the tiniest sliver.

* * *

Well, on the bright side, we hit rock bottom! Anyway, I appreciate everyone who's stopped to give me a review, they all mean so much to me and help feed the growing catastrophe that is the fruits of genius? ingenuity? creativity? Foolishness? Staring at the latest work I've finished, I'm not sure what to call it, but I'm sure everyone will love it.

~Queen Yoda


	45. End of the universe as we know it

~Padme's POV~

"We really ought to get you some more shoes, Leia. Your own store is dreadful. Yes, yes, I promise I'll get you some ice cream later, alright? Dry your tears now, you're a Jedi, remember?" the last part was whispered, as Anakin smiled a watery smile down at his daughter.

Leia was going with Padme, and Jiro. They had both agreed she would need a feminine figure later on. Luke, her baby boy, her son, was staying with Anakin.

He had Shantra, or at least Padme hoped he did. Jiro, happily packing away her things into his hover-car, tactfully avoided Anakin, kneeling before Leia on the sidewalk. Padme stood a ways away, watching.

She would not cry, she would not cry, she would not cry.

She was close enough, though. The sheer pain was unexplainable, incomprehensible, and unattainable to those who knew not their love, and her decision. There were no words for this.

Padme leaned against the hover-car a moment, taking several deep breaths to center herself before she had to go over. She had already said her goodbye's to Luke, and cried the entire way. Now she only had to say goodbye to Anakin. And probably cry the entire way.

"But I don't wanna go!" Leia protested, loudly, for the thousandth time. She stomped her foot, fists clenched at her sides helplessly. Luke stood behind his father, eyes shining as he gazed at Leia. "Leia," Anakin sighed gently. He said nothing else. Padme supposed he did not want her to go either. "You'll have fun," he glanced up at her, a plea for help.

Padme walked over and knelt on Leia's other side. "I don't want to go with Jiro, I don't like him!" Leia hissed, her voice shook. "He's giving you your own room," Padme volunteered.

"I don't like it," Leia harrumphed; crossing her arms stubbornly, her bottom lip pouting. Padme's lip perked up, she gained endless amusement from Leia, she was so much like her father.

"You haven't even seen the room yet, sweetie. I helped him pick everything out. Nothing is pink," she tried to negotiate. Leia glared at her. "I_ hate_ it," she repeated, using the sharper word to emphasize her point.

Padme glanced up, hoping Jiro hadn't heard. He had not; he was too busy humming. She had never seen him look so happy before. Her heart gladdened a minute; she did love her future husband, no qualms on that subject.

"What did Obi teach you?" Anakin demanded, sternly. Leia glared at him defiantly for a moment, unbending. This was going to be harder than Padme had initially believed.

"Fear leads to anger," Luke intoned from behind them. "Anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering," he said for his sister, with all the wisdom of Yoda. Leia's lips pressed together, unwilling to say a word.

"I won't ever see Luke again, or Artoo, or Obi or fatha or…." She began a new list. "Untrue," Anakin corrected. "You'll see all of us, every time we can, okay? I promise, my girl," he said. Leia turned to him, her mouth open and ready to snap back a comment, yet before she could, she caught glimpse of Anakin's face.

Perhaps it was mutual understanding of the pain they saw reflected in each other's eyes, perhaps she was merely tired of fighting a losing battle, but her face softened. Leia's bottom lip quivered. Anakin put a finger underneath her chin and guided her eyes to meet his. "Listen to me, Leia Skywalker," he murmured.

"I don't want you to cry. Do you really think I'm letting anyone take you away from me and Luke forever? No. I'll always be here when you need me, always. We will see each other all the time, okay? I promise. And I'll kidnap Obi one day and we can all go watch a pod-race, does that sound like fun?" he inquired.

His voice shook slightly, but not enough for anyone except for Padme to notice. She wondered if Shantra would notice. She hoped so. He needed someone to notice those things, from time to time.

Leia's eyes twinkled with enraged, perplexed tears of grief. "Obi says pod racing is uncivilized tomfoolery," she whimpered. Padme's heart felt like it was being wrung from her chest. Anakin's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "He has a point," he conceded.

"Fine. We'll all go to a library and find books, does that sound fun?" Leia shook her head again, still displeased. "Obi says he can't ever take you to a library again because you burned the last one to the star-forsaken ground and got the Jedi banished from that planet forever," she told him, matter of fact. "What?" Anakin demanded.

"I did not burn a…Wait a minute, never mind. I remember that now," that got a small smile out of Leia, who nodded. "I only burned one…" Anakin began.

"Obi says you burned five," Leia interrupted. "Five? Oh, now he's exaggerating. I only burned about three. Stop listening to Obi-wan, Leia, he's an old hermit with pretty eyes, who likes to make up stories because he…Wait a minute, are you stalling?" He gasped.

Padme, who had been so caught up in the affair, looked at her daughter. Leia poked her bottom lip out again. Luke piped up. "Obi taught her how," he told them. Leia cast he brother an angry look and marveled at her feet. Anakin chuckled brokenly and shook his head.

"Vape it all, Leia, I'll miss you like the blazes," with that spoken, he pulled his daughter into a tight hug. Leia buried her face in Anakin's shoulder.

"You promise?" she cried into the thick shirt. _I'm sorry,_ Padme thought, her own heart breaking under this strain. _I'm so sorry I have to do this to all of you. It'll all turn out for the best, it will. It will have too._

She'll come to love Jiro as much as I do soon. I hope. For a moment, Padme considered letting Leia stay with her father and brother, but the thought died away underneath fear. What would she do if she had to give up both her children? All of her family? They were her drive, her motivation. How could she live without them all?

Shivering at the thought, she watched as Anakin and Leia separated. Anakin gave Leia a lopsided smile, kissed her forehead, and murmured his promise.

Leia nodded, giving him her best big girl grin, before looking over his shoulder a Luke. "Light?" She croaked. Luke inhaled slowly, his tiny chest rising like lapping waves.

"Peace," he whispered in response. Two seconds later, they were in each other's arms, and though Padme could not sense it, she felt a shiver run up her spine, reminiscent of their parting.

She rubbed her arm as Anakin watched the farewell, standing. He would not meet her eyes. _It's now or never, Amidala._

Stiffly, she stood as well, and forced herself to take one step, then another, towards Anakin. The Anakin she had betrayed, and hurt, and insulted, the Anakin whose passion and trust she had lost. The Anakin she refused to hurt any longer, and thus was now leaving her heart with him, even if he believed it elsewhere.

It took a moment for him to realize how close she was. He turned his head, ever so slowly, as if he expected her to turn to dust before his eyes. She was close enough to smell him, the hard scent of sweat, blood and tears. Of war.

_All is fair in love and war,_ she thought, bitterly. She cleared her throat as his azure eyes settled on her distantly, as if he had locked true awareness away.

_This is for you. All for you, so I will not be just another traitor in the long list you already have. I will not hurt you ever again. And I hope that if you cannot forgive me, you'll forget me._

"Anakin," no longer Ani. There had only been a few times when she had called him by his full name. And she realized the danger of saying it out-loud, right on the street, deserted as it may have been, but she needed to say it, if only a last time. If just to tell him that she had not forgotten the name she had fallen in love with.

"If you ever need anything," she swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Don't you dare forget to call me," she said. Anakin's eyes did not twitch from her own, but she saw them shine. "I won't…Padme," his voice sounded hoarse when he spoke her name.

They stood there; close enough so that she could hear the thud of his heart. It was racing. And she could feel his warmth, and wanted, suddenly, to fall into it, to call this entire nonsense, clustered, foolish debacle off. She wanted to start over. She looked up-always up, he was overly tall-into his eyes, and saw only blank resignation.

The same resignation that had been in his eyes that day on Geonosis, the critical seconds when the Jedi had raised their sabers, eyes hard, mouths set into thin lines, ready to die for the Republic.

He looked just like that, as if he were preparing himself for a final battle. Readying himself to die. _If I could merely turn back the clock… _

Jiro cleared his throat behind her, a signal. It was time to go. Padme inhaled sharply, the spell broken. She stepped back, and Anakin's warmth left her. She was alone again. She nodded, and her breath hitched when she called Leia's name. Anakin called Luke. Jiro hopped into the speeder, eyes cheerful.

"Come on, girls!" he hallooed, unseeing of the splitting ties, the eternal trust warping into grudging acceptance, the past laughter distorting into future cries. He did not see how their family was tearing itself apart.

Padme gave Luke another grin, and a wink, which made him release a watery smile in return. Padme took Leia's trembling hand into her own sweaty palms. "Come, sweetheart. You'll see your brother tomorrow," she comforted. Leia stayed rotted to the spot.

Anakin put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Come on, son," he said softly. Luke nodded, and to Padme's surprise, it was them who turned away first. She tugged gently at Leia's hand. "It'll be alright, baby girl. I promise," She mollified as she led Leia away whimpering. They sat down into the hover-vehicle, and did not look back.

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

_"Now go on, and don't look back,_" His mother had once spoken these words to him. Now she spoke them again, in his heart. _"What does your heart tell you?"_ That he had made a horrible mistake, letting Padme and Leia go?

He had made the worst mistake in his life.

But he had made it because he loved her._ I died because I loved her,_ he thought as he led Luke inside. "Go get ready for dinner," Anakin whispered, hearing the quiet humming of Shantra beyond the boundaries of the living room, trying to sound cheerful in an empty house.

It was so empty. His throat felt too parched, as if he were a dehydrated man in a desert. His head spun. His heart ached. He pushed everything down until he was sure it would not come up again, like pushing down the vile heading up your throat.

Dutifully, grief and anger hanging off of him in waves, Luke did as he said. Anakin closed the door behind him and headed upstairs, silently. He crept into their…His room. It was empty. So empty.

_"There is no emotion, there is peace,"_ On the contrary, when he fell into the soft covers, inhaling her rich scent, now departed, there was emotion. Empty, meaningless emotion, for she was already gone. He had pushed her away. The empty emotion spewed from his eyes and exploded from his mouth in silent sobs.

_"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,"_ No, there was ignorance. He was completely ignorant and unknowing of what had happened. Where he had gone wrong. Why he had not made her stay. Why she had fallen in love with Jiro.

Why he still loved her when she had committed the ultimate act of betrayal. What was he was supposed to do now, without her, his one angel?

_"There is no passion, there is serenity,"_ Yet there had been passion. In this house, before everything had lost control. On Biyalia, there had been passion. There had been peace.

In this bed, there had been spent reserves of passion, now deformed as mere memory. There was no serenity without her, without them, together, amalgamated. And the passion he had-still-felt for her ran dry into tears.

_"There is no chaos, there is harmony,"_ Pandemonium, the Jedi really should have used the word pandemonium. It was…So much better, really. Chaos, it…It meant something, maybe a battlefield. That was chaos. It meant droids and clones falling, it meant floods sweeping through towns, Sith running through the streets, Sidious ruling the Universe.

Yet pandemonium illustrated his dilemma quite nicely. Without Padme, he had no harmony. How could there be harmony without happiness? She was his happiness. Her very being was happiness; her soul was his joy. He had no joy.

_"There is no death; there is the force,"_ The greatest lie of them all. Anakin Skywalker was dead. Padme Amidala was dead. Both into a black hole had they been abducted; and never returned. They had done gruesome battle in that black hole, involuntarily, and overcome each other. It had not been the black hole.

It had been he, and he alone, that destroyed them; that had made her leave, made her betray him. He could not even find the strength to be angry at her, to be confused. Only sorry. What have I done? He had died was the first suggestion that came to mind.

He was dead. Gone. Deceased.

He was as lifeless, empty and bloodless as he had always accused the Jedi of being. Now he knew why they had always called it peace; why without love, his brethren had resorted to this artificial death and concord.

Emotion, knowledge, passion, serenity, harmony, and the force, it hurt. Like the blazes. Anakin wished to dig his own grave, and drop down into it, face first. Death was preferable to life without Padme, if only not for Luke and Leia.

He had to, force, had to live for them. So, they would not grow up fatherless, as he had the first nine years. He had no clue where his father was now. Shielding the supernova of desolate death from his son, Anakin Skywalker perished in secret, his death a demise unworthy of a hero.


	46. Contrast

~Intrepid's POV~

"Cece?" Quite expectantly, Intrepid had no other comment from which to put forth in this situation. "And company," Aziza added.

"At your service, general," Azari piped in, with a lopsided smile. Intrepid was struck dumb. Her next thought arrived when her eyes slipped over to the she-Sith, on the ground, dead. _Her lightsaber. En-lai. _

"We must flee," Dame pointed out, a tad nervously, as the sound of marching droid's feet clomped through the alleyways. Intrepid was too stunned to comprehend.

She had been through too much, the past few days. "How did you kill that Sith?" Intrepid demanded, puzzled out of her grief. "With a blaster. Can you walk?" Cece explained, in a rush.

She glanced at the road impatiently. "Er…Yes, I think so," she shook her head, trying to clear her mind of this rather odd dream. Cautiously, she looked down. The ground seemed feet away, too many stories for her trembling legs. Cece gave her a chance to figure it out not. With frenzied strength, she was suddenly yanked to the ground and pulled after them.

"How did you find me?" Intrepid gasped, as blaster shots rang around them, searing the air crisply. "We followed the tank!" Aziza gasped, dodging a stray blast of energy. Intrepid hopped to avoid one taking a foot.

"But…But…" why was her life so difficult? What was she supposed to do in this situation? Betrayed by her only love, witness to carnage of good people, leader of a dead rebellion of slaves, prisoner of Sith and now this, all in one day?

Why hadn't she picked up the lightsaber and ended it there?

"The rebels…Margo…En-lai…" she gulped. "Tell us when fled we have!" Dame called over his shoulder. Intrepid spluttered as they ducked into an alley.

She had not noticed before, but night had fallen. Several hours had already passed since then and now. "Where are we even going?" She demanded, yanking on the hand secured tightly about her wrists.

"Away from those droids, to hide you!" Cece managed to gasp. "How did you find out I was a Jedi?" Cece opened her mouth, about to answer when a scream shattered the air. Intrepid twirled around, her heart skipping beat. Dame was on the ground, holding his leg with clenched teeth. Intrepid's nerves snapped.

"Dame!" Aziza screamed, halting in her tracks, mouth agape, terror written in every line of a delicate face.

Dame looked up, and his usual murky, gloom eyes fastened on them with panicked alarm. It was the only emotion besides melancholy Intrepid had yet to see in his pupils. She vowed it would not be the last. No one else would die_. I will not fail again._ "Go!" he rasped out.

_Over my dead body,_ Intrepid thought. "Get him!" she ordered Cece, spinning on her heel. Cece made some reply; Intrepid could not hear anything besides the wind rushing in her ears. Sprinting straight towards the droids, her first thought was not to listen to snappy comebacks, but rather protect her friends, the people who had saved her.

The people she would_ not _fail again.

The force roared with Intrepid's fury, her rage, grief and sorrow, echoing across the aisles of Courascant as she swiped at the droids.

She felt her head tails snap with her own power, fueled by dark for the purest of moments. The droids went flying, blasters, tank and all. Intrepid closed her eyes. Inhale. Exhale. It is done. The past is the past. Control. Calm. Peace. The lesson has been learned.

It had only taken her losing the only love she had ever had to learn it.

_There is no emotion. Love is a lie. There is peace_, Intrepid decided. She made a fist, squeezing the gift of life between her hands, calling it to its master, wielding a blade invisible to naked eyes. The sweet songs of the force made her shiver violently. She inhaled the feel of it.

_There is the force, and only the force._ Though, she remembered it speaking to her. It was silent now, and speaking seemed foreign to the essence that knew no language, no favorites, her childhood friend.

Intrepid came to the conclusion that she would not meditate on it; the force was mysterious, and she did not want to think of anything but that at the moment. She had been through too much. She was tired.

She was done.

Turning, with a sigh, she looked at the small cluster situated about Dame. Cece, working hurriedly, was tying a piece of fabric, ripped from her shirt no doubt, and tying it about Dame's leg. Intrepid knelt next to them, and used the force to send numbing painkillers through Dame, whose teeth were clenched tightly to hold in his groans.

Aziza and Azari were staring at her with wide eyes. "It isn't safe here," Intrepid muttered. "We have to go," she said. Cece glanced up and nodded.

"I agree. How will we carry Dame, though? He can't walk," She looked as if she hoped Intrepid had an answer to this too. "I can walk. Pray thee, I shall require assistance, though," Dame managed to grind out between clenched teeth. Intrepid had to agree with this statement.

"We'll carry him between us," she planned. "Close enough, anyway. I can't go back to Margo's," she reminded them. "Where will _you_ go?" Aziza asked; eyes wide. "My own way. We'll keep in touch. I _will_ free you," Intrepid replied stoically, unblinking. Cece was staring at her contemplatively.

"It was En-lai, wasn't it?" She suddenly asked, softly. "That betrayed us?" Intrepid's breath hitched. The pain, sheer, excruciating agony, was still a raw wound. She managed a nod, lump in her throat. Aziza and Azari gasped. Dame's eyes went wide. Cece said nothing, only continued to stare at Intrepid speculatively.

She did not want to talk about it.

Rising, Intrepid grabbed one of Dame's arm. "Come. We must get going before the rest of the droids show up," she announced. Cece wrapped Dame's other arm around her shoulders, and together they hauled him back to Margo's, where further enslavement awaited them all.

* * *

~Nava's POV~

Nava was awakened by Obi-wan's soft, breathless mumbling. This was not, by any means, the first of such occurrences. After all, a month devoid of anything but torture came with vivid memories, and bone-chilling nightmares, flashes of the past that Nava understood.

She did not wish it upon Obi-wan. He received little enough sleep already. He was an over-achieving busybody, after all, much like herself. He did not need Bruck and Torah haunting his every step.

"No," whispered the besieged -not Jedi, not like this-man. "No, stop. Stop it. Let me go…No, no. D-don't t-touch…_No_!" He whispered brokenly. Nava cringed.

Obi-wan had told her not to worry when he had nightmares; that they would pass in time. Out of desperation, she had foolishly believed every word of his sophisticated rubbish.

_"Don't wake me, either,"_ he had said. _"I-I need to face it. Until they mean nothing to me anymore. That's how it worked with Ventress,"_ but these people, Bruck and Torah, they were not Ventress. They had not been Jabiim.

They had been worse. Obi-wan never spoke of it. Anakin and he had never spoken of what had occurred in Bruck's wretched cell. She did not even know how he had been blinded. Nava was sure she did not even know _half _of what Anakin knew.

She was not sure she wanted to know.

Obi-wan, on the other side of the bed, sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. She could feel him trembling, and without seeing, knew he was slicked with sweat.

She pretended to be asleep. At least he was awake. Out of the dark, a trembling, moist finger suddenly touched the side of her face, pushing away a thin braid. She shifted into the touch.

As if afraid he had woken her, the finger vanished, and she heard him sigh something in a different language. Then an alteration in the soft plushness of their bed when he stood.

She heard him rummage a moment in the dark-well, he was technically always in the dark, wasn't he?-and find his robe. Then, his bare feet padding the floor softly, he opened the doors that led to their small deck and vanished over the edge of the banister, into the gardens below.

Nava waited a heartbeat, two, three, four and then went after him.

Swinging herself out of bed, she grabbed her own robe, tied it around her waist and slipped silently out of the door. The back deck was lit on the sides by tiny LED lights glowing a soft, relaxing blue. Nava peered into the gardens below. In the dark, the orchards, bushes and flower shrubs held more mysteries than the entire history of the Jedi order amalgamated.

Illuminated by the same lights as above, Nava followed the route she knew Obi-wan would take by instinct. In between the Rosiry roses, amidst the sweet peach apple orchards, beyond the dragon snappers, and finally, underneath the sole tree that represented Obi-wan more than any other plant.

A willow tree.

The long, thin chords of leaves stretched down, offering comforting fingers to Obi-wan. He sat below this tree, legs crossed, in meditative pose. Though, since they could not gather the force without alerting every Sith to their presence, his meditation was strictly mental. Nava stopped outside of the perimeter mother willow had made around her chick.

The tree was stumped, gnarled with age and hard winters, but flowed with every tiny breeze, gentle, soothing, yet whipping fiercely with seemingly harmless branches. Yep, it represented Obi-wan in every imaginable way. She lifted the curtain of leaves and slipped inside the circle of life with Obi-wan. The faint blue lights around them, on the outside, flickered.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Obi-wan said softly, his back turned to her. Nava stood there, unsure. "You never do. Nightmares?" She inquired, stupidly. In age, their youngness could be debated, but in their relationship; they were extremely young, one inexperienced, the other fallible.

"Memories," Obi-wan replied. Nava glanced around. The wind, smelling of pollution and evil, caressed the tree, which simply growled in warning. The light side was surprisingly strong here.

The living Force was all around. "I see," a minute ticked past. "You should come back to bed," she suggested. "You go on. I will not sleep again tonight," he replied, a bit coldly. She knew it was not directed at her, but himself.

"I won't leave you out here alone," she whispered. "What? Do you suppose anyone is coming to assassinate me while I'm under this tree?" Obi-wan replied, trying to joke. Nava's mouth flicked up in a smile.

She hugged her arms, at a loss of appropriate words, what to say, how to relieve him of this burden. "Not exactly. Do you want to talk about it?" She asked. "I'd rather not," of course. He never does. She narrowed her eyes. "I think you need too," she said, softly.

"Nava," Obi-wan's voice was losing patience, and fight. "I'm fine, truly. Go back to sleep," did he suppose he could just dismiss her? That she would go on command? That might have worked on the clones, or even on Anakin, but Nava knew how to override that commanding tone, she had grown up with it.

Besides, if he was stressed enough to speak her real name aloud whilst within easy hearing range of any late night straggler in the gardens, he obviously was _not_ fine. An unfocused Obi-wan was a grieving one. She should know.

She sat on her knees, arms crossed obstinately. "No," said simply. Another sigh, this time exhaled for a longer amount of time. "I won't bestow my pain unto you to save myself," he was so selfless. At times it could be tremendously aggravating. He needed _help_.

"I'm not asking you too. I'm asking that you let me help shoulder the pain," she corrected. "There is no emotion, there is peace," oh, he wanted to play that game, huh? "Pride goes before a fall," she quoted back.

"It's not pride, Nava," he told her after a minute of hesitation to make sure it truly was not himself. "Then what is it?" A pause. "Fear, I suppose," he admitted, soft enough so that a blow of the wind would have carried the words away.

"Of what?" Another pause. Obi-wan's shoulders stiffened. Nava tucked a loose braid behind her ear. "Of _what_, Obi-wan?" she repeated.

"Any more pain," force knew that was understandable, he had had enough. "That is not a cause for shame, my love. You know this," she said, then stopped, as the sound of a footstep drew their attention.

They waited, listening intently, tensed. For all their joking, an assassin could very well be in this garden, and they were unarmed. The tree whistled, and a small squirrel-looking type-thing-creature sprinted past with a small object in it's mouth, preferably food, another on its heels as they chattered angrily at one another. Nava had to smile at the display of unseemly nature.

"Y-you don't understand, Nava," Obi-wan continued, after a deafening silence. "Then teach me," Nava replied. Obi-wan sighed, and she saw his shoulders droop. The poor man was exhausted.

"This pain…It is like no other pain. Not only the pain of loss, the pain of guilt, anguish, rage, abandonment, failure, or grief, it is…Something_ more_. It is every pain come together and multiplied. It is…Not even Ventress…I have never…" he let out a long breath, controlling and forming the raging emotions inside of him.

"It is not a pain that can be vanquished, nor forgotten. It's a constant battle, Nava. A constant, heart-wrenching battle. A star-forsaken war with a part of me I did not even knew existed until Bruck tore me apart and _dissected_ me," Nava cringed at the quiver in his voice.

"My eyes only add to it. They are a constant reminder, a scar on my very mind. The last thing I saw…They were Bruck, Nava. That cell. Torture, despair, and every time I dream, I dream of that time, because it was the last thing that I…" his voice trembled. The force quaked. Nava's bottom lip joined both objects. "That I _saw_," Obi-wan continued. She heard the tears in his voice.

"My pain is vivid. Every remark, every reminder just ticks away some of my strength, more resolve. I'm fighting against my pain, I try to…To bury it, face it, fight it, hide it, _something_, but I can't win. In this fight, with this pain, you just cannot win, no matter what you throw at it. No matter what I do, it isn't going away. There is no _escape _from this. And I'm afraid…Afraid that I'll lose for good one day, and I-I don't know what will happen then. I honestly don't," he whispered.

Nava inhaled deeply, and pushed her pain away at hearing his voice quiver. Her Obi was always strong, always confident, indestructible, flawless, he was always a Jedi…Yet, inside, he was not.

Nava loved the inside as well, but it scared her sometimes, the depth of his pain, of his anguish, the coldness inside of his soul, a place she could not warm, could not touch…Could not _heal_ with her love. It would always be there; he would always fight it, try to contain it in that one place where it could not harm anything else.

But like a plague, cold spread.

The only solution was to end all pain, all feeling. Nava had a fair idea where the Jedi code had come from. "What can I do?" She implored him tell her.

Anything she could manage that would help, any task, no matter how complicated, or even quintessential it might be, Nava would do. Any kriffing thing to make him happy again.

"You can't do _anything_," Obi-wan choked out, miserably. "No one can. I-I'm completely _alone,"_ the last word came out as a sob. Nava's heart felt like clay, and something was pounding it into a pulp.

A shiver went up her spine, yet she stepped forward, desperate. _You're breaking my heart, you old chizzsk._ "There is one thing, beloved," she countered, reaching forward, to touch him, grasp him to her and hold him there. Tears blocked her vision, and swept down her cheeks silently.

No one should have to live with so much pain.

"Let me end it all for you," she cried. "How?" Kenobi scoffed. Nava remained silent, the language of death. Obi-wan said not a word, listening to the words she did not say, taking in the meaning she did mean, but did not want. Perhaps death was the only true peace, and if it was what he wanted, then she would make it so. Anything to make him free.

_I would do it,_ Nava thought, across the bond. _I would do it, end your life if you wish, should the pain become too much. It is not a life if you are in agony, Obi-wan. It's war. You've spent too much time in war. Let me heal you forever; let me send you back to your wife and daughter, father and mother_.

But oh, she would miss him, every second of every day. Her own life would become a constant battle against pain, against overwhelming grief. She might just have to go after him.

She was not sure she could live without Obi-wan, and she was not eager to find out. Force, she did not want to…Blast, could she ever? She _loved_ him. And she loved himenough to give him up.

"Y-you-" a trembling breath. "You would do that for me?" he asked, uncertainly. Nava only had the strength to nod. She threw out an arm, supporting herself. She felt very weak all of a sudden.

"Nava…You…I…_We_…Don't you know what that would do to you?" He demanded, aghast, as if he were the only one allowed to give his heart and soul for people. "I realize," Nava responded, in a weak and gasping whisper. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, awaiting his final verdict.

It did not come. "Why?" Obi-wan asked, puzzled and stunned. "Why would you put yourself through that for me?" What an idiot question. "Because I love you, clout-head," she answered, truthfully.

"Enough to let you go, to…To do what's best for you before myself. To let you go," she repeated. Nava really wished he would stop asking so many force-forsaken questions. She was hyperventilating over here! After an eternity, he spoke again, and it was in a sobbing gasp.

"Nava…_Force_, only you, of all people, could make me cry right now. Your loyalty…Blast I don't deserve it! How could you possibly_ love_ someone like me?" He gasped out. Nava found this a very stupid question.

Obi-wan never had considered himself in the highest of steads as everyone else. That was one reason why she loved him; that unfathomable modesty. It seemed she had humbled him even more. His shoulders shook, and Nava crawled over to him.

He was still just a scared little boy, when you thought about it.

Resting her chin in the dip of his shoulders, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing the backs of his ears. He gripped her arms tightly, almost desperate for her to stay.

She felt his silent intensity in the force around him. "You silly Gundark," she whispered in his ear, stroking his hair. "It's so very easy," she told him. "No. It should not be. You don't know, Nava…What I've done…I k-killed her… Without mercy, without kindness…I k-killed both of them…" he whispered, either too breathless to finish his sentences or sobbing too hard. Nava only smiled against his ear.

"Torah and Bruck? I know," that momentarily stumped the great negotiator. "You know?" he repeated. "I got it from a reliable source," she replied, with a small shrug, hanging onto his back. "Anakin told you?" Obi-wan asked. "No, Anakin told Padme, and _Padme_ told me," Nava corrected. "Who else did Padme tell?" Obi-wan sounded like he was being strangled.

"Nobody, I hope," Nava honestly had no clue. "So, you've known this entire time…How she died, what I…?" Nava quieted him with a soft kiss. "Why didn't you tell me you knew?" Obi-wan demanded.

"I was waiting for you to tell me yourself," Nava admitted. Obi-wan sighed, before they lapsed into silence. The willow's leaves brushed Nava's face, and she realized tears were still falling down her face and his.

"What is your wish?" She wondered in a murmur. Obi-wan surprised her by laughing hoarsely. "My wish? What has my wish been for the past four years now, Nava? It has not changed. My greatest wish is to never leave your side. I-I can't even tell you how _grateful_ I am…" she silenced him by stroking his hair back, patiently. "My beloved, most cherished friend, my dearest husband, I know," she reminded him. "I _know_," she soothed.

Obi-wan laughed again, softly, in between faint sobs. "I love you. I l-love you so much. Thank you, Nava," he squeezed her arm.

"Force_, thank you_ for reminding me. I needed it," she was not exactly sure what he had needed or what she had reminded him of, but she only nodded. "You're welcome," she chirped, positioning herself so that they were facing. She tipped the chin up and swiped away falling tears, smiled into gratified blue, blind eyes.

He was so beautiful, man, Jedi, or Osiris. He was hers.

"I love you, too," she confessed, pulling him into her safe embrace, and crushing the cold in her hands. Warming the iron core with rays of sun. Nava realized then what he had needed to be reminded of.

That he was not alone. Even if no one could touch the coldness, could heal the pain, they could still fight it away for him, _with _him, until one day it ceased to matter, was hard to identify because it had been gone so long.

She had reminded him that love, faith and hope fixed all things.

* * *

Okay, everyone, that was the cue, strap yourselves in because things are going to happen pretty fast the next couple of chapters. We're finally going up!

~Queen Yoda


	47. Vader's attack

**_Two weeks later:_**

~Darth's POV~

"Spread out our forces, Darth Vader. All over Courascant, search every town and city. Every slum until you _find_ him," Darth Sidious ordered. Darth Vader, on one knee before his master, agreed. His ship had arrived on Courascant the day before, and the chance to make his master proud was exhilarating.

Maybe then he'd be more than a clone; he'd be _better_. A sparkle of eagerness lit his soul at the thought. "Immediately, my master. I will lead the search myself…Master?" he requested. "What is it, Darth Vader?" Came the harsh voice, impatiently.

Vader could almost sense Sidious's fervor for him to be off, to find him this Chosen One. "May I request you send out all of my available Sith brethren to search Courascant?" he asked. "Very well. I want him _captured_, Darth Vader," Sidious growled.

"It will be done. Farewell, master," he said to his father. Sidious gave him a twisted smile before he vanished. Vader stood. Soon, he would have the entire Sith legion out, scathing Courascant's surface for the Jedi. He grinned. The time was coming. He would meet his twin again soon. When he did, this time, he intended to be the conqueror.

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

"Ace, if you don't get out of here now you will be caught in early traffic!" Shantra called. Anakin, who was watching the few stray passers turn into a steady ripple of people heading off to their various places to work, nodded. Yet he did not really care. He had already lost two members of his family; the idea of leaving Luke was…Unbearable.

Padme would have understood.

Padme was gone.

Shaking his head to clear the anguish, Anakin turned and slumped back into the kitchen. Had he not swaggered once? He remembered a time like that.

It was gone as well. Shantra was at the oven, as was customary. Luke sat at the table, silent, alone. The day seemed dimmer, the light darker.

Yet Anakin managed a smile for Luke's sake. "How do you feel, my son?' He asked. Luke glanced at him, chin in his hands while he stared contemplatively at Leia's seat. "I miss Leia," he blurted, to the obvious. "You'll see her again today. At daycare," Anakin pointed out. "I want to see her _now_, at breakfast," Luke sighed, gloomily.

_ Trust me, so do I, Luke_. Anakin had no reply to that; neither did Shantra. She stepped back and handed him a plate. "There. Now go on and get going, clueless one," she teased.

Luke smiled, snickering lightly at the nickname. Anakin reflected how true it was with a lopsided smile. Shantra could see the pain in his eyes. Yet to her the solution seemed so easy.

_ "There are always more fish in the sea_! _You're a Jedi, you can have any woman you want. Go find yourself another queen, one who can cook preferably, and who likes pod-racing. I can get along with her," _she had told him.

Anakin had not responded, he had no acceptable response for Shantra. It just wasn't that easy to fill a space in your heart. _"Another fish"_ could not take the place of Padme. Ever.

Anakin took the plate with meager rations of toast and a bowl of some sort of mush and turned. That was when the Force erupted with a cataclysmic boom. It was not the same as when he felt death, or despair.

It was a plain; and rather urgent warning, in giant neon letters on the side of a pitch-black road. Blinding. Sudden. Impossible not to make out. He took a step back with a strangled gasp in time to see Luke go pale.

Shantra noticed, and she cocked her head. "What is it?" She asked. Anakin's skin crawled. Not answering Shantra's question, he raced to the windows and moved the curtain aside. He gasped_. Sith. No, no, no! How did they find us?_

His mind snapped into a rhythm that was familiar yet uncomfortable. "Shantra, take Luke and get home," he ordered. "What? Ace, what-?" He had no time. Explanation was not necessary anyway, because at that moment, the screams started.

Anakin heard, faintly, the sound of lightsabers tearing through fabric and skin. The wail of horrified mother's, the enraged screams of fathers, they were searching houses, terrorizing citizens, killing all who stood in their way just to find _him_…

He sensed a familiar presence, and an old battle rage flared in his veins, pumping his heart. _Vader._

Shantra had heard the commotion, and she knew what it meant. He turned, about to order a second time only to see Shantra, Luke on her hip, rush to the door, a bag of his things on her other shoulder.

He smiled as he saw the resolve he had seen in many refugee women. The age-old instinct to _protect_ the children, whether theirs by blood or not. She would die before Luke did, of that he had no doubt. She was a good friend. He grabbed her by the shoulder. There were dozens of Sith out there. He could not take them all himself; and he knew it.

But he was going to try.

Shantra read all of this-maybe more- in his eyes. She glanced at Luke, a supplication. He shook his head and squeezed. He was Jedi, pledged to protect the innocent. He would not let these people die when it was not their fault that he was there in the first place. He_ could_ not.

He glanced at Luke, who was still stunned by the force's effect. He had laid his sweaty forehead on Shantra's shoulder. Anakin's eyes filled with tears. His son, his light…._I am Jedi._

He stroked a stray hair away. "Take care of them," he beseeched. Shantra nodded, squeezed his hand, eyes shining, and offered him one last brave smile. "Idiot male," she scoffed a last time, in farewell.

Then they were one, the both of them, out of the door and running into the crowd of screeching, panicked people. Never to be seen by him again. Anakin sucked away his tears and ran upstairs to get his lightsaber. He had not used it in so long…He had not been Anakin Skywalker in so long he was not sure if he fit the shoes any longer.

He was not sure if Anakin Skywalker was even still there under his skin, but for the memory of that Knight, he would try.


	48. Never judge a book by its cover

~Padme's POV~

Two weeks and they still had not settled in. The steps she and Leia took were the steps of strangers who were not yet acquainted with their surroundings, pretty and clean.

Padme was in the bathroom, studying the various dark circles under her eyes, which even Leia had begun to notice, and Jiro had pointed out several times, when Leia shrieked.

She was in the living area in a second. Leia, who had been seated on the his stool, staring disgustedly down at Jiro's prepared meal, arms crossed, was now on the ground beside that chair, holding her head while she whimpered.

Jiro had knelt next to her, watching her with an intensity that Padme found slightly disconcerting. "Leia? What is it?" She cried, falling on her knees beside her child. She scooped Leia into her arms anxiously. The child was shivering. "T-the Force…" Leia whispered.

"The force? Is it talking to her?" Jiro broke in, curiously. "Shhh!" Padme hissed. Jiro gave her a narrowed look but shrugged, standing. He walked over to the windows. "What about the force, honey? Are you having nightmares? Visions?" She asked. Anakin had already warned her that they may have been experiencing them soon.

"Warning," Leia corrected. "_Kriff_!" Jiro cursed, loudly, with evident shock written on his features. Padme looked up, surprised. She had never heard him curse before. Jiro's mouth hung slack. Padme stood, and, having a _very_ bad feeling all of a sudden, peered out of the windows.

The City below was burning. She saw small red sticks waving through the smoke.

Sith. They had found them. No, they had found _Anakin._

Padme gasped. She twirled around, her first thought being to go and save Anakin, grab Leia before she could see, where was Luke, and that she knew that Anakin could not handle any more than five Sith alone.

Even then, he had had the backup of clones. There were no clones this time. "Leia, go to your room," she snapped. Leia looked up, recognizing the sharpness in her tone, and obediently wobbled to her feet and stumbled into her room.

Padme sprinted past Jiro, her hands hurriedly tying her hair into a bun, towards her room, and dove for the bed's underside. Her mind raced as she scrambled under the bed for her blaster.

_ How long have they been here? Have they already found Anakin? Is Luke safe? What should I do with Leia? Where…? _

"Page?" Jiro asked, materializing in the doorway. Padme snatched her blaster and quickly loaded it, snapping the ammo in place.

_I am so sick of that name,_ Padme realized as she snatched off her robe, hardly caring that Jiro was right there. She slipped on the white pants, so familiar and cherished, unto her legs.

"What?" She breathed. "Where are you going?" That should be a relatively easy answer, shouldn't it? What other burning town would have caught her immediate attention?

"Where else?" She demanded, pulling on the tight shirt. It had been hemmed and knitted back into perfect, white goodness. She discarded of the cloak about the shoulders and stashed the extra blaster on her belt.

This would be a hard fight. _What if Ani is hurt?_ She snatched a roll of gauze just in case, heart hammering. If Anakin got hurt, if they so much as touched a_ hair_ on his blasted head…

"You can't go down there!" Jiro cried. "Yes I can," she harrumphed. She stuffed her feet into slender boots. "I mean I won't_ let_ you go down there," Jiro corrected himself, irritably. "Jiro, there are _people_ down there, innocent people; we can't just sit here and…" She began.

"What about the secret Jedi down there also? He can handle it," Jiro pointed out, sounding increasingly vexed. Padme decided to be patient. After all, it had taken Anakin awhile to get used to her too.

_ Yeah,_ something in her scoffed. _Two days. _

Well, that was true. "Anakin can't handle more than five Sith by himself, and even that's with clones helping him," she snapped her comm. link into place. "I saw more than five glowing red sabers down there, Jiro. Anakin will need help, and you'd better believe the townspeople aren't going to do it," she gasped, now done with her transformation. Determinedly, she began to walk out of the door, but Jiro suddenly blocked her path.

"I won't let you," he growled. Padme really had no time for this. Fury swelled within her, building. Anakin could be in mortal danger as they spoke, he could be in the clutches of Vader, he could be _dead_…"Jiro, sweetie, get the kriffing _hell _out of my way," she ordered, starkly.

Jiro's eyes misted over with a blazing ball of furnace fire. "You're doing this for him, aren't you?" He sneered. Padme did not answer. For who, Anakin? Not all the way, there really were people down there. "May I remind you I am now your _husband_?" he demanded, in a low voice she had never heard before. She hesitated.

"I know," she said softly. "Jiro, I…I know, but I can't just sit here and do nothing. How can you think of sitting here while people die? While the Sith tear babies from their mother's arms and bash their heads against rocks? Please, we need to do _something_," she told him, urgently.

She glanced over his shoulder at the plume of smoke rising over the ill-begotten town. "No, we don't, Padme. We don't have to do anything. We're politicians, remember? We don't fight battles with the Jedi. They're trained to fight and die for a reason. This is not our fight," he said, his voice lowered to an ominous pitch.

Padme bristled. "You think that's all Jedi are good for? To fight and die? You think politician's just sit on their butts and do nothing all day? That we don't help people? Our fight is against the monsters who would_ hurt_ the people Jiro. And if that fight need to be with blasters, by kriff, we'll fight it with blasters," she clenched her fists and glared at him in the eyes. She tried to sidestep him. He would not budge.

"No, you won't," he snapped, anger rising in compassionate eyes, burning out all goodness in a snap of a second. Now he looked no better than Dooku, no more an angel than Sidious. Padme stared, and wondered if she had really been seeing a monster in Anakin's eyes…Or Jiro's.

"I've done too much to let you throw everything I wanted away for some fool's crusade! Anakin is going to die, you hear me? And let him take Luke, Leia, and the whole Order with him, you are MINE!" he yelled. Padme went rigid, shocked.

_ "…Anakin is going to die, you hear me? And let him take Luke, Leia, and the whole Order with him, you are mine!"_ His voice rang in her mind. She was his? His? As if she was some sort of animal to be owned?

She took a step back, now revolted with the sight of him, her skin tingling with rage for his words. He would throw her children, nay, her _family_ to the fire to keep her?

He would let people die, and Sith spread carnage to…To keep what…? _"To let you throw everything I wanted…"_

"Everything you wanted? Everything you have worked for? What are you talking about?" She spat. Jiro's eyes suddenly dimmed with the realization that he had spoken too much.

He sighed, and closed his eyes, brows scrunched. "Padme," he began, calmer. "Listen…" Padme had no intention of letting the wicked sleemo finish. "Do you think I'm some sort of thing you can own? A little statue you can keep warm with at night?" Her skin crawled at the idea of spending the nights in the same bed as him.

"No," Jiro ground out between clenched teeth. The air squelched with their tense fury. "Then what?" Padme demanded, stepping closer. "It's…" he began, trying to sound sweet, and calm, like the Jiro she had believed was there.

Padme, though, wanted to see what was under. She had only been looking at the cover of the book. _Never judge a book by its cover_. "_What_, Jiro?" Padme interrupted, sharply. "I HATE HIM!" Jiro suddenly burst out, and the force of his voice made the small objects on the dressers shake.

Padme felt like she had been punched. "What?" she gasped, now who were they talking about? "That Jedi took everything-_everything_-from me! He left Rush to _die_!" he exploded.

Realization smacked Padme straight in the jaw. No wonder she had seen something familiar, something attractive in his eyes. No wonder she had been so attracted to his charm, his thrice-cursed atavism charm…

"You're related to Rush Clovis? That traitor?" She gasped. "He was my brother. He _loved _you," Jiro ground out, eyes digging into hers with demented fury. "He was a traitor! He made his decision!" Padme told Jiro hotly, remembering what Anakin had told her.

Rush had traded the antidote for a vital Republic chip. Anakin couldn't have _given _the chip to him- it would have wasted hundreds of lives!- and besides, Rush had made the mistake by pledging himself with the Trade Federation and the Separatists during the war.

Now, just as Rush had tricked her, Jiro had completely deceived her.

"This was for revenge," she whispered, knowing she had just now read a page of the infernal book, and found the malice and rage written clearly in bold ink. Blast it, she had fallen for it, she had played into his sick plan, she had…Had followed his plan to hurt _Anakin_…

"You married me to get back at Anakin! You split my family for your stupid _revenge_?" Her voice rose to a squeak on the last syllable. "That Jedi scum _deserves_ it! And he deserves to die, along with the Republic that betrayed my brother, and every force-feeling demon that ever traveled the universe!" he shouted. Padme socked him.

Jiro, surprised by the attack, tumbled to his back with a yelp of surprise. Padme stomped past him, tears running down her face.

"I can't kriffing believe this! I fell for it! I loved you! I trusted you! I thought you were the way out; that I was doing the right thing, but now I see, you are no better than Dooku! You betrayed me! Just…Just…" Just like she had done Anakin.

She had hurt Anakin. And Luke, and Leia. What had she done? Padme stopped, trembling, staring at the mountain of smoke that was now leaving ash on the windows to Jiro's apartment.

_I loved the way he made me feel, I liked his flattering words, and his stupid eyes and compassion. I let him trick me into splitting our family, into destroying my family, into hurting my… My…_ She let out a sob.

_ Kriff, kriff, kriff! Why did not I see? I let him break Anakin's heart! __**I**__ broke Anakin's heart! I thought Ani was trying to own me, trying to stifle me, I thought he was turning into a monster, but he was only protecting me. From sleemo's like this. I'm the monster. Blast, I was so__** selfish**__! _

"I'm done here," she growled, hands clutching the couch, fury steeling into raw determination. She had to get down there, had to find him, to tell him she was sorry, to _throw_ herself before death's blade if possible, if only to spare Anakin…

There was no time to lose!

Padme turned. "Leia, let's g-"the rest of her call turned into a grunt of pain. She blinked up to see Jiro standing above her, fists clenched. "You're not going anywhere," he hissed.

Padme kicked his shin in, prompting a howl of agony. With feral rage, Padme attacked the assassin who had snuck into her heart and coerced her into breaking the hearts of those who were connected.

It wasn't fair!

She jumped on his back, tearing t hair and face. "Yes, I am!" She screamed. Jiro grabbed her arm and swiveled around to deliver another punch to her gut. Padme inhaled sharply, her breath stolen and pain reshooting throughout her system, but recovered in time to ram a kick to his groin. He doubled over in pain, and Padme rammed an elbow into his spine.

Jiro collapsed, gasping. Before Padme could move, her foot was suddenly in his grasp. He yanked her down, and a violent tussle commenced.

Padme reached for the blaster in her girdle, but Jiro yanked it from her belt and sent it skittering away. "You think he'd accept you now?" Jiro huffed, as he attempted to overpower her and she attempted to get from under him.

Self-defense training or not, she was not stronger than Jiro, and she was out of practice. "After all you've done? You honestly think he'll forgive you?" She responded by ramming her forehead into his mouth. A streak of blood and a dislodged tooth was her reward.

_ I don't want him to forgive me. I won't ask for what I don't deserve. I just need him to know I'm sorry, that I was wrong. I need him to __**live,**_with this new goal in mind; she gathered extra strength and pushed.

Suddenly she was on top, knee pushed into his belly, arm holding one of his down, blaster pointed between his eyes. She was _done_.

"I will _not _be your tool for revenge any longer," she barked, gasping. Jiro's gray eyes flashed with cold-blooded hatred. How could she have once thought those eyes beautiful? Those eyes pure? Of being anything worth comparison to Anakin's eyes?

She had accused the wrong man of being a monster. And she was going to_ fix_ it, no matter what. Anakin would not take her back, he may hate her, Padme deserved it, she would live with that shame for the rest of her life, she would admit to being wrong, but Padme Amidala would_ not_ run.

Not when he needed her.

"Now, shall we try this again?" she leaned in close enough so that he would _smell _the rage in her breath. "Jiro, sweetie, get the _hells _out of my way," she ordered once more.

Anakin would have, at this moment, decreed that he heard heroic music in the background, and could she hurry this along? The intergalactic pod-racing championships came on in _five minutes_…

She could not wait to see him.

Jiro apparently did not intend to speed up this process. "Over my dead body!" With a guttural war cry, he delivered a very painful punch to Padme's face. Dazed, her grip on the blaster slackened enough for him to seize the weapon, kick her to her knees, and suddenly they were in reversed positions.

She stared up at him, clutching the knees that were thrust into her chest, hampering her breathing. He was pushing down on the lungs she had broken a year ago, stars swam before her eyes, sizzling pain shot through her.

The blaster was pointed directly at her nose.

It was time to die.

"If I can't have you," Jiro smiled; an iniquitous, malevolent smile that betrayed only madness where she had seen charisma. _The fool I've been. _His finger twitched on the handle. "No one can…" Padme inhaled sharply.

"MOTHA!" Leia Skywalker, one of the Jedi's most force-sensitive children, screamed in a rage, sapphire eyes a lake of unquenchable fire, childish malice, and somehow, darkened innocence. Jiro was lifted by an act Padme had no control of, from her chest, his fingers clawing at his neck.

Padme swiveled to stare at Leia. The four-year- old was a mere five feet away, her unbound hair _whipping _with protective, desperate power, teeth gritted hard enough to crack, tears shining in her eyes, and fists clenched in a throttling position.

Jiro scrambled at his throat, wheezing. His feet kicked the air futilely as a suffocating man's only way of expressing displeasure.

"Leia!" When had she learned to do this? "I. _Hate._ Him," Leia whispered slowly, emphasizing each word as if they were the most important words she had ever uttered, and her voice was dark.

Padme shook her head. She was in a drowning, doomed boat; she had felt like it for months; however, she had not been aware of having Leia on board, as well.

Yet here they were, two women: one on the brink of a cliff, a cosmic and invisible ledge. The other having just stepped back from the threshold, though she had not been aware of it even there.

Padme had not been a very good mother lately. Nevertheless, she would be crowned queen of_ Tatooine_ before she let Leia follow in her footsteps. "Leia! Put him down!" she ordered, when things began to shiver with Leia's power.

Glass figures rose into the air, circling the girl, attracted to her field of power like moths to a burning light. Padme ducked as a plate, forks, small utensils joined the fray, the other larger objects quivering.

Leia remained in the eye of the storm.

"Mother, I can't stop! I hate him! I_ hate_ him!" Leia shrieked, somewhat panicked. Padme crawled amidst the levitating items, and grabbed a tiny, fragile hand, hanging limply to the side.

"No, honey, you don't. You hate what's been happening, you hate that nothing's right any more. You're_ angry_, I know it baby," she whispered. Leia's bottom lip quivered.

Padme's heart clenched. "I know you're angry right now, but you have to calm down. Mother will fix it, I _promise_," She said, frenzied at the energy that her daughter possessed, the spectacular curse. Leia shook her head. "You say that too much!" she cried out, and it came as a sob. "You always say that but it's never true! You're_ lying_!" she choked.

Padme closed her eyes. She had been lying, to all of them. Including herself; _this _was the consequence she had to acquire for her sins. Irony and justice did not go one way; it was a circle.

Everyone got their dues, and everyone suffered for one mistake. It was how it went. One mistake, many lives affected. The future would always be stained by her ignorance, her selfishness.

"I know," she admitted. "Leia…I-I know," what could save them now? How could she repent for her sins? How could she erase past pain_? _What could she do?_ "We are going to do as all Jedi before us have done and will do. We're going to keep going."_

That was what Intrepid had said. Intrepid was right.

"There is no emotion," she whispered. Sadness, love, joy, happiness, pleasure, they weren't emotions, they were _feelings_. If there were two diverse words for them, did not they have to be different in some way?

Emotions usually cast you off in treacherous seas, emotions had blinded her, but her_ feelings_ now, they showed her the truth. A Jedi should always follow his feelings.

"There is peace," Leia's eyes sparked recognizing the age -old mantra that thousands of generation of Jedi had used before her, and would use after. Padme squeezed the hand.

"There is no ignorance," she had not been ignorant to the scheme. She had been too selfish to see it. That was the truth. Truth was knowledge, understanding. "There is knowledge."

"There is no passion," in bed with Jiro, it had not been passion, but desire. Burning lust for peace, something she had not known the meaning of because her emotions had clouded her feelings. Her dead child had not been born from passion, but desire. There was no such thing as passion with Jiro, she had loved what he gave her, not what he was, because she had not known_ what_ he was, and that too, was selfish. "There is serenity."

"There is no chaos," chaos was not real. It was a point of view. An opinion, an out-look on life. If one saw it differently, it would be. Padme had decided to see her and Anakin's relationship as chaotic, unreal, because she had been too selfish to open her eyes and see the truth. The truth was that chaos was a lie. "There is harmony."

"There is no death," she breathed. Sabe, Qui-gon, Shmi…They were not dead. Padme could still feel each of them in her heart. They were there, making her blood flow and heart pound, _literally_.

She had perceived them as gone. She had let emotions guide her to that crossroad, but death could only claim the body, it could not touch the soul. Leia breathed out the last words.

"There is the _force_," and the force settled, its secret pass codes, passed down from generation to generation of its servants, spoken and believed. She had repented.

The hurricane around Leia died down. The spiraling objects dropped, released once more to gravity's hold. Jiro collapsed to the ground, his face a purplish blue, gasping and choking. Padme wrapped her arms around Leia.

"Motha," Leia sobbed into her shoulder, as Padme held her girl tight. "Motha, I don't hate him. I don't. I just want to go home, with Luke and fatha, and 'Soka and Obi, and Nava, and Lux-Lux and trepid. Can we do that please? Can we go_ home_ now?" She wept. Padme nodded against Leia's hair.

"Yes, baby. We can go home," she breathed. "It's time to go home."

**_About two minutes later:_**

The fight was not over yet. Leaving Jiro to gasp and writhe on the floor, Padme let Leia lead her to the safest place she knew. Wherever Anakin had put Luke. To her imminent surprise, it happened to be Shantra's.

Or, she was not_ that_ surprised. After all, who else to put them with than their stepmother? Shantra appeared at the door, a _very _big blaster in her hands, and eyes sweeping the territory like a general.

Padme now saw what Anakin had seen attractive in this woman. She was, indeed, not afraid to shoot.

Padme decided that, for the moment, they were allies.

"Leia!" Luke gasped, upon noticing his sister. "Luke!" Leia cheered, scrambling from Padme's arms into the house to embrace her twin. Padme stared into Shantra's eyes.

"What are you doing?" Shantra asked, calmly. "Going after him. Will you watch them if we don't…?" Padme did not finish that sentence. She was almost confident they weren't…

"You're coming_ back_," Shantra growled, deciding for her and the fates. Padme said nothing, only watched Shantra, eyes sliding her up and down in thanks. Shantra had taken care of them when she had been too blind to do it herself. Padme owed this woman much.

Shantra seemed to understand the silent thanks. She gave Padme a teasing smile and clapped her on the back companionably. "Go bring the ignorant barve back," she commanded. Padme grinned. "Will do, general," with a final, playful salute, Padme turned on her heels and ran towards town.

"Padme!" Shantra suddenly called. Something in her voice prompted Padme to turn around. "Don't break his heart again," Shantra warned, her yellow eyes burning into Padme's with ferociousness.

Misunderstanding this as a wife's protectiveness, Padme nodded; intent on _all_ her promises and vows.

* * *

I believe someone called for Padme to get her act together? Well, here we are, I hope this sufficed and calmed everyone's blood lust. But don't relax just yet, don't forget about the other disillusioned Jedi...And the Sith forces currently coming to obliterate them.

~Queen Yoda


	49. husband and wife

~Anakin's POV~

_"Flip, turn, duck. Turn, duck, flip. Duck, turn, flip. Flip, turn, duck,"_ it almost seemed a child's game, this battle of life and death. The only difference? He was surrounded by the opposite team, and they _really_ wanted to kill him.

Not only this, but he was becoming tired, slipping easily, starting to falter in his parries. He had already heard the news. Vader was on his way.

Anakin's minutes were numbered. If only he could find a way to save more people, and/or get out of this house, which was burning. It was Biyalia all over again. Only down to two Sith now.

Others would surely come, in a few minutes. Anakin's eye stung with the acrid smoke, his lungs felt dirty with soot, and the force throbbed his temples with the Dark Side.

He was used to fighting for an extended amount of time, days if he needed too, but that was when he had the clones behind him. He was afforded no such luxury this time. Anakin knew he was going to die; some part of him did not mind. He had already died when Padme left. Now he was only sealing the letter.

_Or you'll be taken prisoner and turned into Sidious's slave. _

Death seemed preferable. He would bring the building down on_ himself_ to avoid such a fate. Now he merely had to take care of one more Sith. There would be others outside of course, but Anakin would handle them when they came. Right now, he was too busy fighting for his life.

_Flip, turn, duck. Parry the attack, Anakin. Easy, use your speed, not your strength. _This would be easier with Obi-wan, or Ahsoka. He might have a chance then. Yet force knew where they were, why they had not come.

Were the old masks of Obi_-_wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano even there? Or had they been annihilated, just like Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala?

Anakin did not get a chance to answer this question before his feet slipped another time. Exhausted, Anakin had no choice but to fall. He landed on his back, panting in polluted breath. Hope left him.

"So ends the last Chapter of Anakin Skywalker!" The Sith laughed, golden eyes blazing with victory. He raised his lightsaber, the red glow buzzing, like the powerful and bright fire around them.

Anakin's vision blurred with either tears or exhaustion, his chest heaved up a last time as he waited, patiently, for death to take him. It had been a long time coming.

"NO!" Without warning, from the force or otherwise, his enemy was dead. Not even with a saber, but a blaster bolt. A _blaster _bolt. Anakin rolled away as the body toppled forward, landing on the spot he had occupied a second ago. "What in the kriffing_ blazes_?" Anakin thought aloud, shocked. Who had…?

"Ani!" _No. It cannot be. _"Anakin!" He dared not turn his head to look, force, it sounded like an angel. Was it? Mayhap death was playing a cruel trick on his mind, calling him home with that beloved voice.

But no, she was _right there_ in the murky smoke, hair waving, entire body clothed in white, large brown eyes searching, heart-shaped lips slightly open, calling, penetrating ….

_It has to be an angel. _

"Anakin!" She saw him, and her soot covered face broke out in a wide, relieved grin, added with sparkling brown eyes. She was just so beautiful. _"Ani!"_ The angel shrieked, as she catapulted herself at him. She landed on his stomach with a mysteriously solid thump for an angel, throwing slender arms around his neck. She was real. Force, she was _real_. It was…

"Padme?" the few minutes ago condemned man gasped, revived and resurrected, wrapping an arm around her middle, confusedly. In answer-a very nice answer, actually-she kissed him on the mouth forcefully, as if she could blend them together through their lips. Anakin's mind emptied itself of reasonable thought.

His heart skipped a beat. He gripped the back of her head, pulling her close, with just as much force. After a few blessed seconds, they separated to gasp for breath together.

"Padme?" he choked again, hardly daring to believe it. His Padme, his angel… _Here._ Why? Before he could inquire, she began ranting.

He could sense the vibrant relief and guilt flowing around her in the force, the renewed vision, the wonderful clarity. She was so beautiful.

"Ani, I am _so _sorry for everything. F-for everything, for calling you a monster, and betraying you, and fighting with you, and being selfish, and not respecting your word, and hurting you, and…And for everything, okay? I know you can't love me again because you're with Shantra but…" Anakin was frazzled.

"Wait, wait, wait a minute! I'm what?" He interrupted, waving his arms as if to ward off bees, he, for one, had been unaware that he had officially been with Shantra. When had he done that? Why didn't_ he_ remember?

"Who the heck told you that?" he demanded. Padme's mouth opened in surprise, and closed with the same feeling. A Sith appeared over their shoulder. "Look out!" He gasped, pushing Padme away.

With a flick of the force, his lightsaber came flying to hand, and its blue blade leapt to life, blazing, brilliant, brighter than the morning sun. Padme hopped to her feet, blasting at the second intruder. Both were coughing dangerously.

"No one. I thought…I saw…I assumed…You aren't with Shantra?" Padme called over to him, as confused as he was evidently. "Shantra? Force, Padme, _no_! Whatever…Made you…Think that? Shantra…Is only…A…_Ugh_… Good friend!" he explained, as he was suddenly tackled to the ground.

Trying to explain the reasons for relationship problems while also fighting off a knife two centimeters from one's face was not as easy as Anakin had always assumed.

Padme went pallid, momentarily halting in her attack. "_What?_" She spat. "Yep, a little help here?" Anakin grunted. Padme shot his attacker in the ribs. The blaster bolt came out clean on the other side of his chest cavity. Revolted, Anakin hopped backwards to take care of the others.

"Was I tricked by _everybody_? Guess whose brother Jiro was?" Padme said. "Whose?" Anakin inquired in a harsh grunt. "Rush Clovis! He was mad at you for killing Rush, so he used _me_ to get revenge!" She told him, as if this _really_ were the time to be discussing this.

"_WHAT_?!" Anakin exploded, now of a different opinion. That sorry son of maggot liver! He had torn his family apart for revenge? He had stolen Padme on a_ grudge_?

"That kriffing sleemo!"

"Right?"

"How did you find out?"

"He attacked me when I tried to come help you!"

Oh, he was going to _die_. Anakin flipped his enemy over his head and into the fire around them. He raced in after, feeling a new burst of energy, and new power just _hearing_ her voice again. Seeing her face, those words, supreme words if they came from her.

"Barve! Where is he now?"

"Writhing and gasping on his living room floor. Me and Leia took care of him," well, good. Writhing and gasping on the floor sounded like a good punishment. He approved.

"Good job!" He sliced the Sith in half and turned back. Without waiting for permission, he took Padme in his arms and kissed her again. When they broke apart, there were tears in her eyes.

Anakin's heart skipped a beat at the sight and he urgently tried to swipe the moisture away, but Padme shook her head, starting to step away. "Ani-I'm so sorry. Stars, I-I hurt you. I _left_ you. I betrayed you. You shouldn't…" she began.

Anakin silenced her with a kiss. He didn't care; he didn't care about any of it, anything else. Padme was back; the past was in the kriffing past. "We'll talk about it later," he decided, obstinately. "For now, we have to get out of here. Thank you for saving me," he said.

Padme gave him a teary smile. "No, Ani, thank you for saving _me_," she whispered. "I love you," with all his heart. "I love you more," he highly doubted it.

A lightsaber broke them apart, and grinning at one another, Anakin turned to his enemy. "Who wants to go_ first_?" he called cheekily filled with new bravado, reborn again with extra life, with extra zeal. "I'll call in the others!" Padme told him, already tapping her comm. link. Anakin nodded, and laughed. Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala were_ back_.

But the fight was not over yet.


	50. Did you just hear yourself, Jedi?

~Nava's POV~

"Nava, this confounded tie defies the laws of life, liberty, and the universe in general!" Called a frustrated Obi-wan. Nava chuckled softly, straightening out her fitting dress, the red one Obi-wan had gotten her last week.

This meeting was important. Obi-wan was going to try and convince two other companies, smaller, yet profitable nonetheless, to join Thoth. Co in mutual earnings. With a success, they would generate a whole new_ type_ of revenue.

If only the poor man could learn to work his tie.

"Coming, darling," she responded, calmly. All of a sudden, out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed something blinking on her bedside table. It was her comm. Link, which she had not answered in months. She was not even sure it had _rung_ once in three months.

Yet here it was, ringing, bleeping with that once familiar light. She stared at it a moment, unsure of why she was confused or surprised, and yet all too aware.

Nava considered ignoring it for an instant; after all, it could not be that urgent, could it? There were plenty of other Jedi the council could call in to travel to whatever battle-scarred planet they wished her on, for whatever force-forsaken reason.

They did not need _her._ Not now. She needed to be at this meeting with Obi-wan!

Nava picked it up. "Yes?" she asked, hesitantly, into the device. The feel of it was familiar to her fingers. "Nava!" Oh, good, it was only Padme. What was all that racket behind her? Were the twins at war?

"Padme, my friend, I haven't heard from you in months! How have you been? How are the twins? Anakin?" She pondered, relieved and pleasantly delighted to hear from her sister again.

"Um…That depends largely on your point of view!" Nava snorted; didn't she know how that was? "I hear you, dear friend. You sound winded, what are you doing?" She inquired. "Fighting Sith," A shiver went up Nava's spine.

"What?" She gasped. "Listen, Nava, somehow Vader found out we are here. He's attacking our town, almost every building is on fire, we have managed to keep them at bay for now, but we'd appreciate your help!" She said.

Nava stared at the comm. link a moment, uncomprehending. "Where's Anakin?" She demanded. "Right next to…Ugh!…Me! There are too many for us to take them alone!" Well, Nava highly doubted that.

After all, it was not as if Sidious would have sent out the entire Sith_ legion_ to capture them.

Besides, if she and Obi-wan ran in, then _their_ cover would be blown as well…Nava did not favor the idea. "Er…There might be a slight problem with that plan, dear, me and Obi-wan are a bit busy at the moment…Padme, I'm sure he can handle it. Just tell him to listen to the force for once, it'll do wonders," she assured her.

Padme was silent moment. "_Busy_?" She asked, coldly now. Nava sighed. "An important business meeting. You'll be fine, Padme," she agreed, finishing. She glanced at Obi-wan, was he almost ready to go? They must not be too late, or else that would set a bad impression.

The next moment passed in silence before Padme spoke again, and when she did it was in a cold, angry hiss. "Did you just hear yourself,_ Jedi_?" She spat. "Well, of course. I'm the one who said it," Nava pointed out bluntly. Padme scoffed, and then was gone.

Nava stared at the tiny device in her hand, missing that voice, which she had not heard in months. She missed all of them, really… She wondered, vaguely, why a pang of guilt followed Padme's abrupt hang up. Why did those words resonate in her mind? Why did she feel as if the force were asking her that question, instead of Padme?

What did it mean?

"_Did you just hear yourself, Jedi_?" Why would not she had heard herself? Nava had not spoken unthinkingly, nor carelessly. Anakin did not even know the edge of his power yet, that unbridled slope of winding fierceness. And Padme was more than capable of taking care of herself _and _Anakin, too, so why did Nava feel this insistent worry deep in her gut?

Why did she feel like a traitor?

_"He's attacking our town, almost every building is on fire,"_ That meant people, men, women, citizens, whose homes were aflame. Okay, that was bad, but couldn't Anakin still….?

_ "Did you just hear yourself, Jedi?"_ Why had Padme emphasized that word? She had emphasized it, had spat it out like it meant something more important than the rest of the words, as if Jedi meant something more than just a title, was more than a political claim…

_ Jedi. Jedi. She was a Jedi._

Nava suddenly gasped, lightly. Her lungs seemed to have stopped functioning; her heart skipped a fatal beat. Before her mind's eye flashed memories of people screaming, houses burning, children crying out or their lost parents, parents crying out for their lost children…She was a Jedi, pledged to protecting those people. And Anakin, Padme, they were fighting Sith, alone.

_ You are Jedi. _

She was. Blast it all, she was. Nava had nearly-no, she _had_ forgotten-that fact. She had forgotten what it meant to her, what it meant to others.

A fellow Jedi and his family were in danger, her family, her _blood._ And she wanted to go to a meeting? What Jedi picked a stupid business meeting over saving people's lives?

_The type who forgets what it is to touch the force, what it is to lead her troops. What it is to be a hero. To belong to the Jedi Order. _

She did not belong_ here_, among all the fancy finery and bumbling office attendants. She did belong in the role of billionaire's housewife.

This was not her destiny, the life the Force had picked for her to live. This was not who she was, no matter how wonderful the experience may seem. She was a Jedi. Jedi did not abandon their own.

_ It's time for me to go home. _

The Jedi, she had _forgotten_…

"Anav?" She looked up, trembling, to see Obi-wan reappear from the bathroom, still struggling with his tie. _That is not my name, not my real name. That is not my real name. I am Jedi general Nava Venerate, not Anav Aethra. I am a Jedi. I forgot that. I forgot who I __**am. **_

****"Could you tie this for me?" Obi-wan requested at last, defeated by his own machinery. He flung up his hands and stood in front of her, blind eyes covered by contacts, not by the force, by contacts.

What _normal _people used, not Jedi. She stared at him, open-mouthed. Could he not sense Anakin's distress? Could he not feel the death rattling the force?

"What?" Obi-wan wondered, noticing that she had not done it yet. "Padme just called," Nava forced herself to say calmly. "The Sith have found them. They're destroying their town," the impulse to run and help was now so strong…She shifted legs with the intensity of it.

"She called for help," she finished. Obi-wan's brows scrunched, not in concern but confusion. "Where's Anakin?" he asked. "He's there, surrounded," she replied watching his face carefully.

Obi-wan chuckled softly. "This would not be the first time he is so," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He can handle it, I'm sure. Now hurry, we promised to meet Tyrion there, remember?"

_ I remember, do you?_

Nava took a step back, disgusted at him, at herself, at their foolish human minds. "Did you just hear yourself_, Jedi?"_ she hissed, in the exact same tone Padme had used.

Obi-wan seemed startled by her vehemence. "Of course. I'm the one who said it," he pointed out, confusedly. He stared at her face directly, as if searching for the answers he could not see.

He caught on faster than she had. After one second, two seconds, three seconds of staring, his eyes widened. He inhaled sharply, and grabbed her arm in a clasp that left bruises.

"Nava," he said, slowly, processing what she had found out already. "Did I just say…?" She nodded, gulping in a dry throat. "While Anakin and Padme are….?" Another nod. "Because of some stupid _business _meeting….?" She sighed. "We both did," she said.

Obi-wan blinked at her, mouth agape, she could sense his disgust at himself. Then, by unspoken mutual_ need_, they exploded into action. "Kriff it all to the _hells_, I've become my parents! Come, we must hurry!" he snapped, the rare curse betraying his true feelings of shame, as Nava was already hurrying to find her lightsaber.

Obi-wan snatched off his tie, used the force to pop out his contacts and shake his hair loose of its constricting gel. Scampering around like headless chickens, they prepared for battle.

* * *

~Lux's POV~

It was just…Just sitting there. Beeping, emitting a faint light, over and over urgently. Lux, though, had not answered it in he did not even _know _how long. Now, his unused comm. link sat before him on his desk, whilst he sat alone in his office. He studied it, and memories flitted in front of his mind of all the times he had used that comm. link…

_ No. That is not who I am anymore. Lux Bonteri is dead. I am a king, not a Jedi. _

Lux answered it.

"Hello?" he said into the device, tentatively, afraid of whom might answer and what they wanted. "Lux!" He jumped at the brusque voice, only added to the roaring thunder of battle behind her.

"Padme?" He asked, surprised. He had not heard from her, or any of the others, in month, what did she want now? A rare thrill of excitement shot through him, for reasons he did not want to ponder. "Padme!" he repeated. "How have you been?" he asked.

Padme did not answer in the customary way.

"Lux, quick…Ani, look out!...We need your help. The Sith have found us. Anakin and I are outnumbered, they're burning down the town," his heart skipped a beat, but he remained externally calm. "Um," he rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly, though she could not see the gesture.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment Padme," he glanced around at his office. He could not just _leave. _He had cadets to instruct, crime to stop, and a people to lead. He had a life to live now.

And it was not the life of a Jedi.

"I'm sure you two can handle it," he pointed out, trying to sound helpful and encouraging. He felt somewhat guilty for turning her down. Padme was not one to ask for help in any situation less than desperate, but she had Anakin, they could handle themselves.

A sigh mixed in with guttural cough on the other side of the line. "Did you just hear yourself, Lux Bonteri?" Padme demanded; her tone full of disgust which, despite him being a _grown_ man now, made his face burn in reddened shame.

Then the line went dead, leaving Lux in frozen silence. He missed the voice, he missed all of their voices, and them, in particular. He had not before realized how much. The yearning only began now, deep in his gut. It made him feel so desperately alone here.

Lux sighed and sat back, fidgeting with the feeling of guilt he held, the first among his customary emptiness. Drumming his fingers on the table, he tried to banish the thought.

_"They're burning the town,"_ of course they were. They were Sith, after all, burning things was their natural talent …

They have been in tight spots before. They can handle themselves just fine. She was only panicking, he thought, stubbornly. But what about Luke and Leia, are they safe?

_ "Lux-Lux! Where ya been?" _Lux groaned and shook his head. "That's not my name," he mumbled irritably. _"You were born to be Lux Bonteri," _Now his father was in his head too? Why him?

_ "People that, for now; have nothing at all to do with you, dear. Now drink your tea."_

_"…Besides, just as we are not normal parents, never will Lux be just another normal little boy. He is more."_

These memories, inspired by a rebellious and truth-seeking mind made Lux bury his head in his hands. He was an idiot, an negligent, discreditable, sucker of a king….

_Maybe that's why I don't belong in the role of a king,_ he thought, begrudgingly. Perhaps his father had been right. Perhaps… No, he was not a king. He was a Jedi. A _hero_.

He had to be, he would not be doing this for any other reason. He would not be who he was without the Jedi. He already had a family. A place. And he was going back to it.

He was going home.

Taking all of these things into account, and grumbling about how stupid he was for not seeing it before, he rummaged through the bottom drawer of his desk. A second later; he pulled out his old blaster, staring at the patina slicking the surface. 

Then he headed out the door.

* * *

~Ahsoka's POV~

"Air Raid, yo, this thingamawinger's been ringing fo ya!" Ahsoka turned from staring at the multiple men demonstrating the various ways to smoke some sort of drug and towards the voice.

She raised an eyebrow, shocked, when she noticed the device in his hands. It was her comm. link, which was emitting a red light whilst it bleeped insistently.

She scowled; it had not made so much as a peep for months. Or, Ahsoka assumed it had not. She had not checked it in months would be more accurate to say. "Well, then give it to me idiot! What are you doin touchin my blasted stuff?" She demanded, snatching it away from grubby, calloused hands.

"Hey! I only heared it ringin and thought…." Ahsoka waved his explanation away rudely. "Whatever. Get out of here, all of yiz!" She yelled.

Daring not to contradict her for fear of incurring her wrath, the room was suddenly emptied, grumbling notwithstanding. They were afraid of her. They were _afraid._ Ahsoka knew, deep down, that pleasure should not be what she felt at this thought.

Turning the tiny machinery in her hands, marveling at the shiny, professional exterior, Ahsoka debated whether she should answer it. Who would be on the other side?

What would they want? Could she…Should she even answer this, the tool once used by Ahsoka Tano, the Jedi_ Knight_? She felt as if her touch, with bloodstained hands, would desecrate the Jedi apparatus.

In the end, curiosity got the better of her.

"Yes?" She squeaked, her throat suddenly parched. "Ahsoka?" Padme's exhausted and frantic voice demanded. Ahsoka recoiled. "Padme?" She responded.

"Good. Listen, Ahsoka, somehow Vader found out we are here. He's attacking our town, almost every building is on fire, we have managed to keep them at bay for now, but we'd appreciate your help!" Padme stuttered out quickly, not taking time to deliberate.

"What?" Ahsoka demanded; confusion and disbelief wrapping their tentacles about her brain. "Where's Anakin?" She asked.

"Outnumbered. Why? Do you have something better to do too?" Padme replied, acidly. Ahsoka was taken aback at the tone of her voice. Not even two seconds into the call yet and she was flabbergasted. Padme and Anakin, Intrepid too, seemed to have that ability.

Or, they had, once…Force, Ahsoka missed them, in some secluded place in her heart she did. She felt so alone sometimes… _I never felt alone with them._

"Don't take it_ that_ way, but I am in the middle of something…" She began, glancing round the empty room, hoping there were no probing ears on the other side of an untrustworthy door. _The middle of stopping the drug Empire here once and for all,_ she thought.

"Fine!" Padme snapped, cutting her off. "Whatever. I can't_ believe_ this. Did you just hear yourself, Jedi?" Rather than listen to Ahsoka's comeback, Padme hung up abruptly.

Ahsoka gawked at the comm. link, having not been treated with such rudeness since she became leader. Or, intentional rudeness anyway. She huffed and tucked the comm. link back into her pockets.

_ I can't help them,_ she decided. _That isn't me anymore, not here. Besides, Anakin and Padme can handle themselves. _Shaking her head, she started towards the door, only to have the force hit her with a memory.

_ "Don't you think it's just a bit wrong that we're stealing this ship?" She asked. Anakin's brow scrunched for the slightest moment. "Uh, no," he said after a moment's hesitation._

_ "We stole it from a slaver; he probably stole it from someone else. And that person probably stole it from another person, and it goes on all the way up to the first second this thing was stolen, brand new," he explained. Ahsoka put her hands on her hips. "We're still not going to tell Obi-wan, are we?" She asked with a smile. _

_ "Or Padme. They're goody-two-shoes, Snips, they wouldn't understand," he agreed with a laugh. Ahsoka shook her head, though she still felt a prick of guilt at having stolen the ship. It wasn't the Jedi Way, however it was used for good. _

_ Ahsoka felt something tug at the bottom of her dress. She looked down at a little human girl around five years old that had been one of the first to board the ship. She was twiddling her small, dirty fingers nervously. _

_ Ahsoka smiled gently and knelt before her. "Yes, little one?" She asked of the same little one that looked bone tired and sucked of all innocence. Slavery got even more horrible, each time Ahsoka saw another example of it. _

_ "I made you something," came the soft reply. "Did you?" Ahsoka asked. She nodded and looked down at the twine in her fingers. Shyly, the child handed it to Ahsoka. _

_ It was a small circle made of some sort of wood hanging off of a gnarled, knotted twine, rope and ribbons all mixed together into one. It had several markings on it in Huttese. _

_ She cocked her head, studying the smooth surface made by impressively agile and talented hands. "What does it say?" She asked softly, fascinated. She had never received such a gift. "Hero," the little girl replied. Ahsoka felt a smile curl at her mouth. This was why she loved being a Jedi. For moments like these ones; with the children. _

_ She looked up. "Thank you," she whispered, holding her prize in front of her. "Will you keep it? To remember us by?" the child asked, a bit of girlish hope lighting her eyes. Ahsoka poked her belly, making her giggle. "I promise," she assured her. The little girl nodded and gave her a bright grin before rushing back into the bowels of the ship._

That had happened two years ago, On Tatooine, when she and Anakin had skipped out on a Rebel Council meeting to free slaves.

The deed a Jedi was privileged to do by definition. They came to serve. Ahsoka had forgotten what it was to serve people that way. She was serving, but…Somehow, she felt as if she were also betraying someone.

_ "Will you keep it? To remember us by?"_ That little girl she had saved, why did she come to mind? Why did those large, despondent green eyes come to mind? Green eyes, just like Intrepid. _"…Did you just hear yourself, Jedi?"_ She had heard herself, alright, but what Padme meant, Ahsoka thought, was had she understood?

Had she understood what she had just said, what she had just implied? What that implication meant? What did it mean?

_ "That's right. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka. You've spent your whole life training against what you're about to do…Don't give up now,"_ Lux. Lux, her friend, her brother. Her family.

Lux, Intrepid, Anakin, Obi-wan, Nava, Padme, Luke Leia, Rex, Cody. Her family. They needed her. Those people, they needed her, and the Sith, they needed her expertise in soul-healing, called lightsaber ambush. She was a Jedi, bound to give it.

She was Jedi, a _Jedi._ She was Ahsoka Tano.

"So what in the kriff am I doing _here_?" She gasped aloud, and without thinking more on the subject, raced from the room to find her twin sabers. She only hoped she would not arrive too late.

* * *

~Intrepid's POV~

_ "I love your eyes, you know," En-lai told her. Intrepid chuckled softly and looked back at him, grinning, playfully batting said eyes at him. En-lai rolled his eyes. Intrepid continued jumping from roof to roof of the market. _

_ The venders below paid them no mind, only occasionally shook their heads. laughing. Intrepid smiled and turned her head to the artificial lights, which if one imagined them for awhile, you could pretend that they were as good as sunlight. _

_ She would get sunlight one day, for en-lai. Intrepid wanted him to feel the warmth, the burning warmth that came from a real sun and not lights above a damaged city. All in due time, she supposed. _

_ "Seriously, they're…They're so green. Like vuja fruit," he called after her, a pace behind. Intrepid snickered. "You're comparing my eyes to fruit?" She asked. "Hey, it's a sweet fruit, isn't it? Has not any ever said that to you before?" he asked. "No. My people do not pay attention to looks," she explained. She stopped, waiting for him to catch up. _

_ "You're joking. Everyone notices the appearance first," he gasped, finally catching up to her and grabbing her arm to balance himself. Intrepid laid a hand on his shoulder to help. "No," she contradicted._

_ "It is against their way," their way now, not hers. She was no longer Jedi. She had picked En-lai over their ways. En-lai snorted. "Against their way, so what? It's instinct," he said. "Not if you've been told your entire life that looks mean little to nothing," she said. _

_ En-lai seemed to think on this. "So, you don't love me for how I look?" he asked. "No. I love __**you**__, not your appearance, though," she half way turned, winking at him over her shoulder. "That is a nice bonus," she observed. En-lai laughed, and she joined in when he ran over, scooping her into his arms for a long kiss. _

Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!

Intrepid sat bolt upright with a gasp. Her hand shot into defensive position, and in a moment she was on her feet, eyes scanning the area.

Faint midday light filtered in through the cracks in the wooden door above. She was housed and hidden in a cellar; the cellar of the old woman who owned the blankets. That trade franchise still continued, with Margo none the wiser, Aziza had reported.

Intrepid sighed upon seeing no one there. She looked down; realizing she had overslept again. There seemed to be no need to stay awake without…No. She would not think of him. The past was gone; En-lai was a traitor. _They _were no more.

Her comm. link was still bleeping, without stopping.

Intrepid gazed at it, in the pile of clothes she had discarded the night before in order to make herself more comfortable. It became infuriatingly hot in the cellar at night, and the air was burnt and dry as Tatooine breezes.

Her comm. link had not rung in…A very long time. It seemed like a century now, before Courascant, before En-lai, before…Any of this.

She inhaled sharply. Her legs, not following her conscious direction, took he rover to it. Underneath a rock in the corner, the shine of her lightsaber gleamed at her. She had not touched it in nearly a year. Intrepid fingered her old tool in her hands, gazing at it awkwardly.

She felt as If she were holding an ancient artifact. She reached to the force, delicately, but it said nothing, only remained mockingly silent. It did not answer her questions. Quite by mistake, she had suddenly pushed the receiver.

The caller wasted no time in gasping out: "Intrepid!" The person in question jumped; the soft silence of the underground disturbed by Padme's loud voice, and the sound of fierce scrambling behind her.

"Padme?" Intrepid gasped. She had not heard a word from any of them since their arrival and separation. "Intrepid, hopefully _you_ can at least… Ouch!...We need your help. The Sith have found us. Anakin and I are outnumbered, they're burning down the town," Padme explained hurriedly, sounding for all the world as if Intrepid were her last hope.

Intrepid glanced around. Leave the underground? That would be the direct approach of coming out and screaming_: "here I am, I'm Jedi! I abandon everything I've been working for the past few months!"_ Intrepid had lost too much to be the one to yell that.

"I am sorry, Padme, but I can't," she said bluntly. "I have work to do," _so much work to undo what I have done, the damage that has been wrought in my name. _"I bet you do," Padme sighed, and she sounded so…So tired.

"I had hoped… Do you even hear yourselves_, Jedi_?" Then all went silent again. That final benediction weighing heavily on Intrepid's mind.

"Of course I heard it. I'm the one who said it," She murmured in defense. Intrepid traced the edge of her comm. link, surprised. She actually wanted to hear Padme's voice again…She had not realized how much she missed it. How much she missed _them._

_ "Do you even hear yourselves, Jedi?" _Padme had sounded very angry when she had said that? Had she spoken to the others? Where were the others, did they miss Intrepid?

She looked over at her lightsaber, gleaming pointedly at her from the dark. Guilt slowly began to chew her heart. She wished she could help but…But she just was not that person anymore.

_ You still carry the saber, if you were not that person, who are you to carry that weapon? To use your talent? Why are you trying to free the slaves at all? _

Well, because she was a Jedi, of course, but still…

_ Jedi. Jedi. She was a Jedi. _

Intrepid stared at her weapon, sitting in the dirt, as if she had been smacked. Her weapon- that weapon was her_ life_- and it was in the dirt; how ironically metaphorical.

Intrepid dove to grab her lightsaber as if her life depended on it, which, she now realized cradling the thing, it _did_. The force swirled around the weapon, calling, enticing, beckoning, encouraging.

Intrepid looked up. Jedi protected and fought beside their own, they defended their family. Standing, she stared up at the cellar doors, shadows resting on her skin from the outside, as if explaining what her heart looked like. Intrepid intended to step back out into the light.

Grabbing her saber, she ran.


	51. They're back!

~Anakin's POV~

"Jedi scum! You shall….Ugh!" His lungs were on fire. Anakin snarled at his opponent. He was tired, the Dark Side was pushing against him, the smoke in the air making every figure surface from murky, thin, depths as if a ghost.

At times the thought that this was his future in the next five minutes popped into mind. He turned back to the building just as his wife, his queen;_ his_ Padme came back out, also appearing like a ghost, though the kind he preferred, the sort with a halo. An angel.

"Well?" he demanded; voice harsh with panting exhaustion. Anakin bent over, putting his hands on his knees. His throat screamed for water, his heart ached with over-strain. He put his head down, gasping and choking out several droplets of blood.

Padme put a worried hand on his shoulder, kneading. He had never fought so many Sith altogether in his life. Most of the buildings had ceased burning, the fires having eaten away all that there was to eat. Yet caustic smoke still hung in the air, and red sabers would emerge out of nowhere. The force was diluted by the Dark Side.

"The others," Padme moved quick enough to outstrip Yoda of his speed. The ambush halted in mid-stride, the Sith dropped, adding to the several bodies of his dead and dying brethren around them. "Are busy at the moment," she spat out. Anakin's head snapped up. _"Busy?"_ He choked, incredulous.

Padme nodded. "They assured us we would be fine, Ani," she sighed, obviously outraged by their friends behavior. "Obi-wan…?" Anakin asked. Padme shook her head sadly. Anakin's heart panged.

He would have at least thought his _brother _would come to help him. Obi-wan always came. Anakin felt a flicker of rage. After all that they had been through together; weren't they supposed to be a _family_…?

Then he sighed. "They've forgotten, Padme. Just like we did. They forgot what we're fighting for; what it means. It took us tearing apart our own family to realize what we had forgotten. We can't expect them not to have to go through the same," he said.

Padme crossed her arms, eyes searching the area above his head. "Can you take them all?" she asked, softly. Anakin shook his head. "No. P-Padme, I'm sorry. I'm too tired, too weak. One good strike will do me in soon, or will knock me out. I'll be taken before Sidious," he told her, sorrowfully.

Padme nodded in understanding, acceptance, and he saw her eyes twinkle with tears. "So this is it," she croaked.

There was no tremble in her voice. "No," he straightened out. "You have to get out of here. Hide, find the twins," he determined. She turned her head, slowly, agonizingly slowly, to meet his eyes. Her own pupils were filled with disappointed, anguished, guilty sorrow. "I won't leave you, Anakin, not again," she told him.

Anakin opened his mouth, but a small, delicate hand slipped into his. "Besides," she gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm not afraid to die. I'm afraid to live without _you_," she admitted. Anakin had lived the same fear for two eternal weeks. Torturous weeks.

A tear ran down his cheek. "I can't let them take you. I won't_ lose_ you again," he whispered; his voice cracked. Padme only shook her head, and lifted a hand to rest on his cheek. Her thumb traced the tear away.

"You won't have too. Neither of us is getting captured. We'll leave this universe together. And you'd better believe we'll go down _fighting_," she assured him, with those lovely brown eyes like his mothers, assuring him of everything.

Everything would be alright with Padme by his side. It always was. He kissed her forehead. "Whether in sickness or in health," he recited. "Rich or for poor," Padme added, pressing herself to his chest. Her eyes spoke her soul. _I'm sorry._ He smiled, foolishly. _I'm more so._ He grinned.

"For better or for worse," he said.

Padme smiled back. "Peace or war."

"Until death do us part;" they finished in unison.

So, they began anew. "I am touched! Truly, this is _endearing_," Anakin let out a sighing groan as a familiar voice-his own voice-rang out. A second later, propelled by the Force, the smoke cleared and the air was once again free of toxins.

Upon the sight that greeted them, Anakin half wished for the smoke again. Standing a few feet away, encasing them in a circle of sneering, tittering Dark Side malice was the entire Sith Order, trapping them against the remains of the fire-smoldered building._ Brilliant_.

Padme gasped lightly and her blasters flashed into her hands, pointed directly at the encroaching army. Anakin ignited his lightsaber and stared straight ahead at Darth Vader. "I'd rather_ die_ than become Sidious's slave," he told his clone nemesis, rasping.

Vader offered him a tight smile. Somehow, the glee in his eyes gave the distinct impression that he had gotten crazier since Anakin had last seen him. The ambition and stunning need for _praise_ floating about him in the force told Anakin all he needed to know.

Vader was the most insecure Sith in the Order so far, worse than Sidious.

"Yes," Vader agreed, merely. "But are you willing to let _her_ die, as well?" he asked, nodding to Padme. Anakin's heart skipped a beat. No. "We die together, Sith spit," Padme piped in, fearlessly. Oh, his brave wife. He did not deserve her at all, in the slightest.

Anakin brandished his weapon, swinging it in a low arch. He breathed in, out. He would die in the light, no matter how much the Dark Side tried to sway him at this vital moment.

Padme raised her blasters, brown eyes cold and hard. She set her mouth grimly, looking for all the world like that woman who had fought alongside the Jedi on Geonosis, and held her own while many of the Jedi fell. They were the ultimate couple.

"Bring it on," he dared. "Sith," Vader raised a palm, ready to give the signal. "Attack!" the Sith rushed forward in a cascade of screaming, revenge-stricken warmongers…

And were flung backwards as if individual sacks of potatoes. "Hey!" shouted a very unhappy and quite familiar tone. A tone that Anakin knew so well that he had often called her his daughter, his little sister; his comrade in war, partner in peacekeeping, his Snips. Anakin inhaled sharply. It could not _be_… After all these months, and all this time…

"Whoever gave permission to start the party without _me_?" With that demanded, Ahsoka Tano dropped down from whatever hiding place she had devised, and landed skillfully besides Padme, lightsabers flashing green and lime. Anakin gawked at her.

Padme did likewise. _"Ahsoka?"_ they gasped as the Sith alliance scrambled to their feet, enraged at the very undignified face-plants they had all performed in due to Ahsoka's force push.

"Hi guys," Ahsoka greeted simply, cocking a white eyebrow at them. Anakin stared at her garb. What was she wearing? She looked like a bounty hunter. "I thought you were busy," Padme said, narrowing her eyes.

Ahsoka grinned. "Never too busy to save your behinds," she chirped. Anakin let out a breath of relief. "Thanks, Snips," he said. Ahsoka shrugged. "I should have come a long time ago," She lamented.

"Look here, brothers," Vader called, calmly swiping his tunic free of dust. "We have with us _The Charlatan Queen_. Another stately prize to take back to the Sith Palace!" he jeered. The Sith burst into merciless cackles. Anakin glanced around. great; now they were_ all_ going to die. They could not take this many Sith alone, even with Ahsoka.

"I have an objection to that!" A second voice contradicted. Out of the blue, hundreds of sharp shards, glass, Anakin assumed, were hurled, with outstanding force power, at the Sith, who howled in pain as they backed away, trying in vain to deflect the small, sharp chunks of resourcefully crafted ammo. On Anakin's side, Intrepid suddenly appeared, silent and swift as a shadow.

"Intrepid?" They all gasped in unison. Anakin gawked, now what was_ she_ wearing? Were those rags? What was the usually dignified, sharp-tongued, detached, clever Intrepid doing in_ rags_?

"What are you doing here?" Ahsoka demanded. "I thought you were busy!" Padme added, completely frazzled. Intrepid shrugged nonchalantly, much like Ahsoka had. Anakin noticed some of the old sparkle in her eyes was gone. "An old friend called," Intrepid replied calmly. "Said she needed help!" She explained.

Padme grinned, and Ahsoka harrumphed. Anakin smiled as well, his heart rising just the tiniest more. He reached over and squeezed Intrepid's dirt-caked shoulder, sending a quick thought through the Force.

_ Thanks for coming, my friend. _

"That's why I'm here!" Lux Bonteri- blast, Anakin_ loved_ that kid now-called in tandem when, from out of nowhere, a cable smashed into the cement on the other side of Ahsoka, sending small pieces of cement flying, Lux slipped down that cable, belt around his waist holding several blasters.

Anakin sensed his new appendage, and concern shot through him. What had Lux been _doing_? "Hello," Lux Bonteri chirped, nodding cordially at the Sith. "_More_ of you?" Deathdera screeched, infuriated at the constant interruptions.

"Obviously," Padme chuckled, glancing at Lux with sparkling eyes. Intrepid and Lux suited up, lightsaber buzzing and blaster raised.

It still would not be _enough_.

"Enough of this! Sith, attack_ now_!" Anakin tensed. The force rippled with danger. "Look out!" he raised a hand, anticipating the coming debris before they were even flown by the impact of an enormous chunk of building. The outside ring of the Sith either scattered or were catapulted from the ground and into the air, screaming with the loss of limbs.

Where they had been standing, an immense crater stood witness, and in the crater was a large, lopsided boulder. Ahsoka and Intrepid raised their hands, deflecting the sprinkling remains with the force. "What was that?" Padme gasped.

Anakin grinned into the diminishing mist of dirt and rubbish. He had a very good idea… "Hello darlings!" Nava announced her presence, strutting up to them cheerfully. Anakin was tempted to laugh. His heart filled with illuminating delight and warmth.

The Jedi masters were in the house.

Obi-wan followed suit, hands folded behind his back and lightsaber casually swinging on his hip.

The force twisted around them. Obi-wan scowled, looking around. "So uncivilized," he muttered, noticing the catastrophe of limbs, dead, fire, destroyed buildings and homes, along with Sith. "Master!" Intrepid cried happily. "Obi-wan!" He said also.

"Yes, hello Anakin," said his friend, waltzing up. Nava grasped Padme and Intrepid into a hug, commenting on Intrepid's rags and Padme's hair. Obi-wan looked at the Sith scattered over the pulverized land with distaste.

"Who are all these people on the ground? The ground is no place for civilized people," he scolded. Anakin laughed, though he knew Obi-wan was perfectly serious. He clapped Obi-wan on the back. "It's great to see you again, big brother," he replied.

"ENOUGH!" Anakin jumped as Darth Vader suddenly swiped away the clouded air with one hand, eyes glowing with fury. Uh, oh, they had made him angry.

"No more!" He roared. Anakin looked over, and shivered at the look in Vader's eyes. Would he have been that deranged, once? Would he have been…Like that? So alone, so desperate for attention, for praise, a kind word, unloved?

So…_Miserable?_

It did not matter. Though Obi-wan and Nava's dramatic entrance had slimmed the Sith down, there were still too many. They were still going to die.

"We can't take them alone," he muttered to Obi-wan, hoping that his master had a _plan_, at least. "What?" Ahsoka snickered, apparently unworried, having overheard. "You think I came alone?" She asked, with a mischievous grin. "Or me?" Lux added. "Or me?" Intrepid snorted.

"Yo!" Ahsoka roared, cocking her head to be heard for miles around. "What the kriffing frick does you clot-heads think you is doin? Get out here!" She ordered, brusquely. Anakin felt his jaw go slack, along with everyone else's.

They had never heard Ahsoka speak in such a tone, language, _improper grammar_, or…Or…At all. Like that. From the very cracks and crevices of the ground and alleys came…Were those _drug dealers_? "_Cadets_!" Lux suddenly snapped.

"Fall in!" Several dozen cables slammed into the ground around them, and several more dozen young men and women of all different species and cultures filed down, and surrounded them protectively, fierce battle eyes trained on the enemy without a trace of fear. "Heeeeyyyy!" Intrepid hallooed, in third. "Is anyone ever going to show up?" She wondered.

"Shut up! We're comin!" A sassy voice replied. Several more people, also dressed in rags and smelling distinctly of the underground, (for it had a particular smell, unique to the galaxy in general) came; several more blasters were raised.

Now, they had a small army.

Now, they could take them _easily_.

He exchanged a smile with Padme, and raised his lightsaber into defensive position. The others followed his idea, smiling devilishly. "Okay," he cocked an eyebrow, smugly. He had not felt so good; so powerful, so completely utterly free in _months._ "Now this is where the fun begins," he laughed.

With that decreed, they charged.


	52. Mustafar

~Ahsoka's POV~

Ahsoka felt liberated. Air Raid, she now realized, had been a personification of the Dark Side, and she had been holding Ahsoka back. Now, there was no holding her back. She was with her family. Intrepid and Lux moved and spun around her, the three of them spinning in harmony like a top. Here, there were no leaders, no responsibilities. They were a team, a Trio. _The_ Trio. Air Raid, and the life she had lived, were dead.

* * *

~Padme's POV~

Padme felt fortunate, fortunate for so many reasons. She and Nava were back to back, sisters, peacekeepers, Jedi. Family. This element had been missing these past few months, Padme realized. Without the chords of strength they all shared, there was no strength for her and Anakin, Luke or Leia.

Without the Jedi, and the Republic, each of them was nothing. Without each other, they were merely citizens. Now they could be heroes, together. Padme felt laughter bubble up inside of her, started in the pit of her stomach by joy, unquenchable relief that she had felt was lost with her baby. Page Abner, and the life she had lived, were dead.

* * *

~Lux's POV~

Lux felt complete. Since the loss of his arm, he had been aware of the emptiness inside of him, the gorging hollowness sin his heart. Now, it was filled, by purpose. He had been born to be a king, yet he felt destined to be something else, so much more.

He laughed as Ahsoka soared past him, her green blades flashing like the colorful wings of a silk moth. Intrepid ducked underneath him, her body fluid as passing waves. The others around him did not lead. He did not have to be a leader here.

He just had to be a Jedi, a part of a family older than him, and that many non-force-users had been exempt from for generations. Generations before him. That was fulfilling. He did not need to be a king to have power, or to feel purpose. He just had to be Lux. That was the last-and the lost- piece of the puzzle.

That being said, Lama Rai and the life he had lived, was dead.

* * *

~Nava's POV~

Nava felt secure. By the side of her sister, within range of her daughter, and in the protective force-grasp of her family, she felt boundlessly safe. She had never felt her true mothers embrace, but she had felt a mother's hug, and this was it; the arms of the force signatures that she had not felt in so long.

Anakin's fiery one filled with power. Padme's soothing one saturated in strength. Ahsoka's passionate one packed with determination. Lux's righteous one trodden with caring. Intrepid's willful one watered down in pride. Obi-wan's calm one, created by strife. This was home. And the life of Anav Aethra died there.

* * *

~Intrepid's POV~

Intrepid felt at peace. For the first time she was not burdened with emotions of passion, or dizzied by the strike of betrayal, death and the chains of slavery, the cries of rebellion. She was at peace here. In the circle of deadly power that Ahsoka, she and Lux had formed within the other confines of Anakin and Obi-wan on one side and Padme fighting with Nava in the other.

There was no contradiction within the circle of her friends, her family. They would not let war come to her, and in return, she felt meaning not letting it come to them. Was this love, the emotion she felt for these people?

Somehow, she felt as if it were. And she felt as if it were different from the love that had taken her heart with En-lai, for the pure reason that this love, she knew, was real and unbreakable. So she was able to let her guard down and dismiss Infinity to the bowels of eternity.

* * *

~Obi-wan's POV~

Obi-wan felt as if he weren't alone anymore. Amazing, really, how he had never noticed it. Yet he realized it had always been there. He never felt alone with them. He felt lost sometimes, and helpless, many times cold. But never alone. For the first time in _months_…That spot of cold had turned warm.

The aching in his heart was replaced by joyful singing. The force flowed through him, and he could see. He could not see color, but he could see that he was not alone. He could see something bedsides the dark.

He could have wept with the relief. As it was, he merely recognized that he may have been having too much fun as he and Anakin nearly danced around each other gracefully, switching tactics and sides to defeat the Sith. Darth Vader prowled back and forth away from the fighting, watching Anakin with deadly eyes. Obi-wan was not worried. After all, he was a Jedi, and the force was with him. Besides, Osiris Aethra was _dead_.

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

Anakin felt prosperous. Growing up as a slave, then a Jedi did not provide one with this feeling very often. Yet Anakin felt it now. He felt like the luckiest, richest, most bountiful man in the universe.

He was home. They were home. It was okay now.

Despite the worrying fact of Vader, watching his every move from a distance while the small army that had gathered overwhelmed the remaining Sith and a few townspeople returned to join in the tussle, he felt carelessly free and unworried.

His lightsaber rotated in a rainbow of colors as he and Obi-wan moved around each other like dancers. He knew Obi-wan's moves so accurately well it was endearing. In this position, Ace Abner, and the life he had lived, meant nothing at all to Anakin.

He was Jedi, through and through. He glanced over at his angel, who was smiling as Nava suddenly stooped. Padme twirled and stepped into the cupped hand. With acrobatic strength, Nava lifted Padme above her head, where the senator began shooting from above while Nava fought one handed below.

_ Why don't we try that?_ He asked through the bond, then grinned when he remembered how strong it was. Obi-wan cast him an incredulous look.

_ You would snap my spine in half,_ he replied. Anakin snickered as Obi-wan projected a horrified image of Anakin stepping into his hand and Obi-wan falling over, collapsing them both in an undignified heap while Obi-wan whined about his hip.

He laughed aloud, infuriating the current Sith they were battling. He felt so boundlessly free it was funny and heartbreaking at the same time. Anakin glanced over at Vader, and his freedom darkened into duty.

Seeing the seriousness in his eyes, Vader turned away, fists clenched. The Force around him churned, he was extremely attuned to it. Yet he was no Anakin Skywalker. As if it had been waiting for a cue, an Empire ship suddenly swooped down from the sky. Anakin gasped; Vader was escaping!

True to the Galactic principle of Sith, without waiting for the ship to land, Vader abandoned his brethren to jump atop the bulkhead and vanish into a hatch. Anakin's teeth gritted.

He would not let Vader get away. "Master!" he turned to see Ahsoka. Their eyes met, he looked over at Obi-wan, who nodded his assent. "Just like old times!" Obi-wan said as he and Anakin crouched on one knee, hands cupped.

"How things have changed," Anakin muttered fondly. The ship was rising, they had to hurry or they would not make it. Ahsoka backed away a few feet, eyes narrowed and hands on her lightsabers, calling strength from the beloved crystals.

Then, with a burst of Force-enhanced speed she ran and stepped into their palms. Anakin and Obi-wan flung her into the air.

Ahsoka sailed, arrow-like, towards the quickly ascending ship. A thin, strong rope dropped from her survival belt to the ground. Ahsoka stuck the landing, holding onto the bottom of the ship tightly. Anakin vaguely made out her snapping the other tip of the cable to the ship's bottom. Anakin and Obi-wan grabbed the end and started climbing.

The ship rose above the town's smoldering remains, leaving the others to fend for themselves. Anakin hoped Padme did not get herself hurt again. "Well," Obi-wan panted softly, when they had successfully slipped into the ship.

Ahsoka stuck her head around a corner. "It's time to end this once and for all," Anakin nodded, uncertain. The force was telling him something he could feel it. It wanted him to wait. It warned him to be patient.

"I think we should hide," he suggested. "Why? Vader is right there. We could take him now," Ahsoka pointed out. Anakin shook his head. "Trust me on this. It's a feeling," he explained.

Ahsoka and Obi-wan exchanged rueful, knowing smiles. "Here we go _again_," they sighed in unison. Anakin scowled and crossed his arms, feigning indignance. Force, he had missed them.

"Whatever. Come on, we have to find a place to hide," he said.

* * *

**_Later:_**

~Darth Vader's POV~

"Lord Vader," Darth Tyrannous, his master's _current_ favorite, greeted in a smooth monologue, contemptuous golden eyes expressionless. Vader walked out of the ship, nearly sprinting, still panting from the fight.

The ash falling from the firmament did not help matters, either. He glanced up at the blood red sky. Mustafar was not a welcoming planet. His gaze slipped to the small structure behind Dooku.

He could feel the Dark Side here; it was strong…There was death in the air. The screams of those now dead. What had been his mission? Who had they been sent to kill? Vader wondered if perhaps they were rebel leaders. Rumors had spread that they were considering making Mustafar a meeting destination.

Vader wished Dooku would have saved some for him. Vader wanted to make someone scream for the humiliations he had faced at the hands of those Jedi, particularly the Jedi themselves.

Behind Dooku stood the respectful and reserved Starkiller. His eyes had an attentiveness that _disturbed_ Vader… He stopped before Dooku and bowed.

"My master Tyrannous," he gulped. "I have just returned from Courascant," he explained. He hoped Dooku did not notice him trembling. "Ah, yes," the older Jedi drawled, slowly. His cultured accent reminded Vader of Kenobi. He shivered.

He had just been bested by those Jedi _scum_. He would make them _pay_, every moment of pain he suffered, they would find ten times worse when he inflicted the same torture on them. Or the children, when he got a hold of them.

The _children_ would be a nice change…

"You were sent there to apprehend Skywalker, were you not? Have you returned with him in custody?" Dooku demanded sharply. Vader winced. _Please, please don't make it so bad this time,_ he mentally pleaded as he gulped.

Failure was always met with strict punishment. "No, master, I-" He was interrupted by another cultured voice, which echoed out from behind him.

"I am afraid he has returned with us, Count, but not in custody!" Obi-wan Kenobi said. Vader swiveled around to see Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano and Obi-wan Kenobi in the doorway of his ship! How had they gotten there?

"Skywalker!" he gasped. "Kenobi!"Dooku hissed, eyes flashing with either admiration or anger. "Tano!" Starkiller said, his eyes growing wide with surprise. Ahsoka smiled cordially at Starkiller, Obi-wan smirked and nodded to the Count and Anakin crossed his arms, eyes flashing.

"This ends _now_," he decided. "Darth Vader," Dooku barked. "You can make amends for your disgrace! Take Skywalker into custody _at once_. I will deal with Master Kenobi," he planned.

"_The Charlatan Queen_ is mine," Starkiller growled, slipping off his cloak. Dooku ignited his lightsaber. Skywalker leaned towards Kenobi, and whispered something softly, his eyes never leaving Vader's.

Kenobi nodded and waved his hand dismissively. Tano murmured something that made both men emit a flickering smile. Why did these Jedi smile before a battle? Vader did not understand. They seemed so…Confident. Not overconfident or cocky, as he had been taught, but just _confident._

Before he could ponder this, the three blades of Jedi were ignited, in obvious warning. Blue and green. The Sith ignited their own in obvious challenge. Vader stood to his feet. Red.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then there was war, a war that had been ongoing for thousands of years, the war that now rested on his shoulders. He pushed against Anakin's blade as Lava exploded from the river below, scorching the already sweltering atmosphere. On this planet, everything would change forever.

* * *

~Anakin's POV~

_ "Join me, Anakin."_

Anakin had once trusted Palpatine. He had believed almost every word the Chancellor had told him, every piece of advice, because Palpatine told him what he wanted to hear.

He had indulged and flattered him in a universe of critics, of _friends_. He had gone to the older man for everything, and at times believed him his true father. Years earlier, Palpatine had been considered among those in Anakin's family.

Anakin saw what that would have made him into now.

_"You have let this Dark Lord twist your mind until now…Now you have become the very thing you swore to destroy." _

Looking into Vader's eyes, he saw himself, and he did not like that. He did not like that he felt as if he knew Vader personally, as if he were staring into the mirror at a parallel dimension. A future he had barely escaped.

He saw one of the futures he could have taken. The future always changed, and yet this could have been his fate. Would he have been fighting Obi-wan? Mace? Ahsoka? Would he have hurt Padme? Taken her down with him? What would have become of Luke and Leia? He shivered at the thought, but somehow managed to struggle up the brace.

They had sunk a building. So alike, were they, yet so different.

The bright reds and oranges of the lava below made sweat break out on every inch of his body. The Force wanted him to see something; he knew it.

Spouting from the lava was extremely heated air; it whipped against his face and dried his lungs. This planet felt evil, almost as bad as Serreno. It felt like the sort of place where all dreams were destroyed.

_"Don't make me hurt you," _

Vader took a wild swipe at his knees, and Anakin jumped. He glanced back at the building that was starting to crumble into the lava. He hoped Obi-wan and Ahsoka were alright. He wheezed, exhausted and barely able to breathe, the amount of malice and hatred Vader was projecting…Could this clone have ever been something else?

_ Could he have been me, in a different life? _

Palpatine had betrayed him. Now, his clone monster had destroyed his home, his reputation, his life, sent them to that foul curse of a planet called Courascant. He was the cause of all this pain. He was the problem. Anakin hated him. _  
_

_"I have failed you, Anakin, I have failed you." _

Yet at the same time, he could not help but feel pity for him. Anakin could not imagine a loveless life. A dark, lonely, anger-filled fate. He did not want to think about what would happen to Vader when he returned to Sidious empty handed. Anakin did not want to think about Vader's life. It frightened him, and fear led to anger. He believed that. What did Vader believe? Did he believe anything at all?

_ "This is the end for you, my master!" _

The voices, disrupting the blazing noise of lightsabers and Vader's taunts, came from deep within Anakin, which also frightened him. He felt as if he had said them once, long ago, mayhap in a dream. Or nightmare, though he could not recall the details of such a nightmare.

He could not remember waking up, or even having it, yet he somehow knew that it was there. It was real. He had said that. Or would have. Will say them. Something.

"You're only destroying yourself, Darth," he called over, when Vader stumbled unto a small levitating droid. Anakin jumped atop a larger piece, and they continued their fight, feet above the lava, hot enough so that Anakin felt as if his skin were on fire.

Vader snorted, and Anakin felt deep grief well within him, bottomless sorrow. Not only for Vader, but for himself. He felt as if he were being betrayed. But by whom?

_"You've turned her against me!"_

"Then I will die in flames, greater than you!" Anakin narrowed his eyes against the blinding light of blue and red sparking against one another. One lightsaber was authentic, dug from the ice-mountains of cherished Ilum, earned through facing fears or embracing truth. The other was artificial, crafted from fire, and dark arts, stolen by thieving trickery or animal strength.

Anakin inhaled deeply, pulling the light around him like a shield. _"Weep not for the past, fear not the future," _he tried to direct himself. The Force, though, did not approve of him using Jedi sayings to push it's decree away. It willed him to see, to _understand._

Not a voice, not Qui-gon or Tahl, but a deep resonating language, spoken without words or voice but spoken, somehow, through silence, erupted behind his tightly packed shields, it slithered around his mind, woven with undomesticated command.

_Look into his eyes. See yourself. See what you could have become. _

Anakin stared at Vader, and understood.

_ "From my point of view the Jedi are evil!"_

In a split second, he was someone else entirely. The force wanted him to realize it, to feel the stark horror. Tears blocked Anakin's vision a moment more as he allowed himself to feel the agonizing anger, the desperation, the endless sorrow and disbelief.

Dark,_ boiling_ hatred which burned his skin and set his eyes aflame. He bashed against Vader's saber, wanting the pain to leave his body with the blow, he wanted the truth to slip away with the charge, but it did not. His teeth gritted, and sweat drizzled out of his pours.

He was desperate; he was heartbroken. He just wanted someone to _take_ the pain…But he had already made his decision. He wanted power, and he would gut the entire universe before he allowed it to stray from his hands. Powerless, _never _again.

_"Then you are lost!"  
_

Yes, he was lost. He was furious at his loss, at his helplessness to find the light again. There was no light. He was already too far gone. There was no hope now, his only hope rested within the dark, within the folds of potential power. This was the Dark Side, what he had become, who he was.

Anakin gasped as he leapt from his perch to a high bank. The ground beneath sweltered through his boots, placing third degree burns on the soles of his feet through the leather. He could not stay long.

He stared up at Vader, and realized tears were running down both sets of cheeks. They had both of them felt it, then, he and Vader together. They had felt what they could have become, the roles and how they might have been switched that day on Genesis.

How Vader might have been the one with a family, with honor, with love and the Force's guidance. How Anakin could have been Vader, honor bound to hate, to lie and cheat others for his own willful gain, to _destroy _all who would dare oppose his wrath, a mere tool of selfish greed and perverted desires.

However, the force had deemed it not to be so, for some reason. Anakin was free, while Vader was not. It was unfair, and Anakin knew, with every ounce of being within him, that he would have deserved Vader's fate more than his clone did.

Vader had been born and placed into this position, without any say or explanation. Anakin could not hate him; no matter what Vader had done. He did not deserve this, the face that was also his did not deserve any of it, not like Anakin did. It was unfair, so unreasonable, yet Anakin sent a heartfelt thank you to the force.

_I understand. _

"It's over Vader!" he called to his nemesis, riding the small droid still, above the lava banks. "I have the high ground!" he pointed out, willing the man, Sith, whatever, to heed his words. _Don't do this to yourself,_ he mentally pleaded, wondering who he was talking too. Vader or himself.

"You underestimate my power!" Roared the Sith. Anakin shook his head, incredulous, desperate, exhausted. "Don't try it!" he shouted back, hoarsely.

With the listening skills of a disobedient child, Vader tried it anyway. Anakin hoisted his saber in defensive position, closed his eyes, and knew, before it happened, what would occur. The air exploded with an agonized scream, then a thump as something collapsed back to the ground.

Anakin opened his eyes to find Darth Vader without both legs, and only one arm slipping down to the lava below. He inhaled sharply as Vader's pain rippled throughout the force. _Blast, every force user in the galaxy should feel it,_ he reflected, with a shudder.

Vader scrambled at the eroding embankment with his one arm desperately, screaming. Anakin watched him, sultry and parched air making his hair thrash in the breeze. His own feet were slipping deeper into the magma, feet blistering with heat.

Yet he stayed, because where he should have felt victory, he only felt grief. Sith, Jedi, or anything in between, _no one_ should have to die like this.

Anakin could not bring himself to hate his enemy like this. He could not. He felt pity, only. Groaning, screaming and gasping through sobs, Vader tried to pull himself up frantically, but the magma was too fast.

One of his stumps slipped too close to the magma, and a flame flickered. Vader _howled_ with aching, burning agony.

_ "You were the Chosen One!"_

Yes, he was. And in some part he owed it to Vader for taking this fate from him. Anakin's fists clenched. _I'm so sorry. _

Suddenly, he heard a faint voice cut through his mind and the pain radiating in the force. It was the light personified and dimmed down so that it resided in a person. It was like Qui-gon's rock, smoothed, refined and polished by thrashings and suffering, so that it shone with brilliant splendor.

In short, it was Obi-wan. He turned around, slowly, as if exiting a dream. "Anakin!" The voice was shouting, apparently panicked. "Anakin!" Over the edge of the small mound, Obi-wan suddenly appeared, face streaked with fear. He must have heard the screams and thought it was Anakin who had been defeated.

"I'm here, my master," he called back, calmly, the sentence spouting from the depths of his soul, and leaving a pang that reverberated from head to toe.

He was there; he was _alright._ He had not turned into Vader; he was not the one below suffering such a fate_. I'm here. I'm here. I haven't betrayed you yet. I'm still here. _

He touched Obi-wan's mental shields with his mind as Obi-wan scrambled down the bank and landed beside him. Obi-wan sighed in relief, and his blind eyes strayed to Vader.

Anakin felt horror-and unimaginable sympathy-float through the bond. They could both feel his pain. "Anakin, come," Obi-wan commanded gently, tugging his arm. Anakin did not take his eyes away from Vader.

_ That could have been me. _

"Anakin, there's nothing we can do now. We'd both fall in. Come," Obi-wan said, tugging him away. Anakin nodded numbly. Obi-wan was right; there was nothing they could do. All the same, Vader's screams would haunt him forever.

Anakin gripped Obi-wan's arm and allowed his friend to drag him away from the scene. From behind him, Vader screamed out his last farewell, his curse on Anakin and the fate that Vader had taken from him.

"I HATE YOU!" Yes, Anakin assumed he did.

_ "You were my brother! I loved you!"  
_

"There you two are! Come on, hurry up!" Ahsoka called as Anakin and Obi-wan ran up, gasping for breath. "What about Starkiller and Dooku?" he asked as Ahsoka ran back into the cockpit to start the ship.

"Indisposed, for the moment. They left a slaughterhouse in that facility. All the assumed men of idiosyncratic ideas in Sidious's senate," Obi-wan informed him tightly, shoving him into the ship. Anakin stumbled inside, the hatch closed behind them. He walked to the front and slumped into the pilot's chair, which Ahsoka had left open for him.

_ Just like old times. _

He shook his head and stood. "You take over piloting this time, Snips," he said. Ahsoka gave him an open-mouthed look of shock, but speechlessly obeyed. "Anakin?" Obi-wan asked, hesitantly, as if he were speaking to a caged bantha who, after hours of fighting, was being too still. "Are you alright?"

Anakin slumped into the co-pilot's seat tiredly. He would never forget the sound of Vader's screams. "Yeah," he replied breathlessly. He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's only…" he trailed off. "What?" Ahsoka coaxed, turning worried azure eyes over to him. He smiled dully at her concern.

"The Force…I felt…It was…" He gave up the explanation and settled with an ashamed, quiet: "that could have been me." He expected denial, or outbursts of surprise.

Others would have gone on assuring him that he would never, that he was too good a person, like he was the perfect Jedi… But Ahsoka and Obi-wan, the two who knew him best, remained silent.

Finally, Obi-wan put a hand on his shoulder. "In another life, Anakin, and had a few things gone differently, I imagine it would have," he replied. Anakin looked up and shuddered.

"How do you live with that?" he demanded, softly, devoid of strength. "The knowledge that…It could have been_ you_?" He sighed. Ahsoka had the answer, and she spoke with perfect wisdom, unexpected understanding. "You remember that it wasn't," she replied, with Jedi-like detachment.

And that…That fixed _everything_. He could have been Vader, but he wasn't. He was Anakin Skywalker. He was still a Jedi, still good; he still had his family, his life. He was still the Chosen One. And…Why in the kriff was he not driving?

"Ahsoka, get out of my seat. Obi-wan; stop brooding and sit down," he ordered, almost diving back to his rightful position in life. As the pilot. "Well, aren't we domineering all of a sudden?" Obi-wan commented, dryly, but a grin was tugging at his mouth.

Ahsoka relinquished control with a graceful bow. "Your seat, master," she presented. "Thank you. Now, do either of you know where the others are?" he asked, settling into his position and tweaking several buttons by instinct. It had been so long since he had piloted a ship.

He was never leaving again.

"Back on Courascant still. The Sith ran off, cowards. Apparently the others are in your," Ahsoka raised her eyebrows. "Mechanics shop?" She demanded.

Anakin gave her a sly grin. "It's Obi-wan's fault," he assured her. Ahsoka harrumphed; affronted that he had began a business of tweaking things without her_ direct_ supervision.

"Will that always be your excuse, Anakin? That it's my fault?" Obi-wan asked, alighting the third chair elegantly. "Yep," Anakin replied as he ship began to its slow ascent. Obi-wan sighed. "Some things never change," he observed. Anakin laughed.


	53. What a way to die

**_Later:_**

~Lux's POV~

"Honestly, master? Why is the front so nice and then the back is a windstorm of catastrophe?" Lux looked up, having just been wondering the same thing, to see Ahsoka Tano, Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker saunter into the back room.

Each of them was covered in small specks of dark ash, and smelt strongly of sulfur and fire, yet Lux felt himself let out a sigh of relief that they were safe.

Sitting on a small toolbox next to Artoo, he felt completely at ease with himself, despite the days' past events.

"Anakin!" Padme cried; face exploding into relieved delight. She ran up and threw her arms around him. Anakin laughed. "Ahsoka, my friend, you are safe. Come sit," Intrepid called as she grabbed Ahsoka's arm and pulled her down next to them on various crates of unknown things.

Ahsoka plopped down tiredly, but gave them affectionate smiles when they engaged in a three-part embrace. Nava smiled serenely as Obi-wan vaulted himself in the seat next to hers in the relatively large hover vehicle Anakin was working on, sitting placidly in the middle of the room. She kissed him lightly on the cheek in greeting.

Anakin and Padme walked over, eyes alight with cheerfulness. Lux's heart melted at the sight, though he only snickered. For a moment, there was only a contented silence that none of them knew how to break.

In the end, no such thing was needed by any of them. Suddenly, Lux heard the sound of the door in the front opening. He jumped to his feet, along with the others, blaster trained in the doorway.

Though, the immediate danger was invalid, it was merely a Pantoran woman holding two silent children in her hands. Luke and Leia. The twins looked up, in unison. The look of stark, pure joy that flitted across both faces forced Lux to sigh in satisfaction.

"Soka! Lux-Lux, trepid!" Leia screamed delightedly, wriggling from the woman's arms to run over to the three of them. Luke followed quickly, both eyes shining with glee.

"Hey, twins!" Ahsoka whooped, falling to her knees to embrace them. Lux and Intrepid knelt next to her, commenting merrily on their growth, state of health, and power in the force.

Looking into the faces of Luke and Leia, whom he now realized he considered, with reasonable possessiveness, _his _brother and sister, Lux was stricken by how much he had missed them.

He hugged them both to his chest tightly, never wanting to release. "Thank you so much, Shantra," he heard Anakin say to the woman, when he looked up.

Padme grabbed his arm and smiled amiably at the young woman. "For _everything_," she added. The woman grinned back at the two of them, apparently pleased with something.

_"Obi!"_ Leia laughed as said Jedi master used the force to lift her to him and Nava. Nava likewise carried Luke over. Lux noticed the shocked, impressed and slightly frightened look on the woman's face.

"Obi! Obi! When did you get here?" Leia asked, throwing her small arms around his neck. Luke settled comfortably into Nava's lap and laid his head on her chest affectionately.

Before Obi-wan could answer, Leia went on excitedly. "Obi, so much happened! Motha and fatha started fighting all the time, and then they didn't talk to each other no mo'. Then we started going to daycare!" she told him. "What?" Intrepid gasped.

"Daycare? Two force sensitives?" Ahsoka agreed, looking to Padme and Anakin with shock. Both turned equal shades of red. "Well, I…" Padme began, rubbing her left arm, but this time Luke had something to say.

"Ooh, ooh! After that Jiro came and motha started going with him, and fatha started going with Shantra…"

"What happened?"

"But Jiro was a meanie face!"

"And mommy's baby died!" That statement elicited a general deep inhalation of breath. All eyes swiveled to Anakin and Padme, who reddened further. "Twins…" Anakin began. "Then motha left fatha for Jiro!" Leia snorted, her opinion of this strategy unmasked. "Mother and Fatha got a divorce!" Luke testified.

_"You WHAT?" _

"After that we went to live with Jiro and he was mean! He felt bad in the force," Leia wrinkled her nose. Padme gawked at her daughter. "Well, someone could have _told_ me that," she grumbled.

"Then The Sith came! BOOM!" Luke demonstrated by throwing his hands into the air. "And Jiro tried to kill mommy!" Leia gasped.

"Who tried to do _what_?" Nava croaked; a flustered look on her pallid face. "But I stopped him! I hated him really bad, so I strangled him," Leia sighed, without much regret. "She _strangled _him?" Lux was appalled and confused. "Almost, Lux-Lux," Leia verified.

He stared at Padme, waiting for answers, but the mother seemed too ashamed to speak a word. "Okay, you guys," Anakin halted them, as Luke was about to spill out more family secrets. The twins went silent, glowering at their parents for stopping the story.

"You two _divorced_?" Ahsoka demanded, eyes flicking between Anakin and Padme sternly. "It was only for two weeks!" Anakin defended. "It was a mistake," Padme agreed hurriedly.

The rest of the family stared. Lux sighed and put his head in his hands. They could never leave these two alone, could they? Not without divorce's, and strangling, and Sith and killing.

Finally, overcome with shock, Obi-wan did something most surprising. Leaning one elbow against the edge of the speeder casually, he sighed, fixed Anakin and Padme with a long-suffering look, and traumatized them all.

"Damn kriffing shit," he cursed loudly, absently, apparently forgetting that it was in basic and not another language altogether. The others stared at him, stunned by this more so than Anakin and Padme's divorce. Had _Obi-wan_ just…?

Anakin was the first to burst out laughing. Nava, Ahsoka and Intrepid followed sooth. Padme leaned against the wall, giggling. Lux could not help but join in, the tension of the moment broken.

After awhile, even Obi-wan had to laugh at his slip. They laughed together for a long time; so hard that each of them was wheezing for breath within minutes.

"What's so funny?" Leia asked loudly while they laughed, snickered and snorted with mirth, pulling at Obi-wan's beard insistently. "What'd Obi say?" Luke wondered curiously, playing with Nava's braids.

"Oh, oh, master my sides," Anakin groaned, having collapsed against the wall limply, and barely holding himself up with one hand while the other clutched his side.

Lux's sides burned as well, he looked up, gasping, his lungs aflame. He had not laughed that hard in months…It felt so good. "Are you all always this odd?" the woman, still standing in the doorway, wondered.

"Oh, blast, we should have gotten that on tape! It was priceless!" Ahsoka gasped, clapping her hands appreciatively. "You two deserved every word of it for breaking such a thing on me," Obi-wan scolded, though a light blush had rosied his cheeks.

"We did, I'll admit it. Do that more often, alright brothem?" Anakin agreed, jovially. Obi-wan crossed his arms. "Absolutely not," he grunted.

"Seriously, though, what _is_ this all about?" Lux asked them. Anakin shook his head and Padme sighed. They exchanged troubled glances. "It is a story best told another day," Padme decided at last, mournfully.

This was met by curious but understanding nods. "What I'd like to know is one: Ahsoka, why are the leader of a gang of drug dealers?" Anakin asked, raising his brows at his former Padawan. Ahsoka sighed.

"It's a long story," she admitted. "And not a very pleasant one either," she told them. "Intrepid what are you wearing? Does that outfit have anything to do with your child enslavement mission?" Nava wondered of her former apprentice. Anakin perked up. "You went on a child enslavement mission _without _me?" He pouted, staring at Intrepid with hurt.

She smiled apologetically and fingered her torn rags. "Yes, and that, as well, is a very…Grave narrative, best I tell it some other time," she said, not meeting their eyes.

Lux narrowed his eyes at her; she had been hurt these past months away. He could see it in the dimness of her emerald eyes. Hurt by someone badly. The image of tearing the head off whoever had harmed his friend flitted across his mind. Intrepid seemed to notice, and she gave him a shaky grin in reply.

"Lux-Lux, what did you do to your arm?" Leia piped up. She had been studying him intently the past five minutes, her eyes sharp. The other Jedi turned to look at him, and seeming to notice something, cocked their heads in exact unison. Lux's heart skipped a beat, and he ducked his head. "I…Was too late to stop a bomb," he explained, sheepishly.

He felt a pang of emptiness again. Intrepid put a hand on his shoulder, protectively. "I suppose we _all_ have stories better left to different times," she observed.

"Indeed we do," Nava agreed, with a long, tired sigh. They lapsed into silence, all of them with heads ducked away, trapped in their own memories of grief and secret lives.

Luke was the first of them to break the silence. "This place is _evil_," he whispered the apparent. Lux looked up, wondering if he should point out that because of the over-abundance of Sith on planet, of course it would feel evil, when he saw Luke's eyes.

They spoke of something deeper than the Sith, and The Empire. He spoke of the same loneliness, confusion and dark presence that had warped each of them to fulfill its needs. The Dark Side was the master of manipulation, of deceit, of lies and fabrication.

It tainted and infested inside of you whether you knew it or not, using the dark in all them to inspire mocking mirror images. It had made them all believe its fabricated lies, and this is what had happened.

They had almost been destroyed.

"Can we go _home _now?" Leia whimpered. The adults exchanged startled looks; where was… home? Biyalia as a planet altogether had been ransacked, and so far, Courascant remained their only answer.

_Home is where the heart is. _

"I agree with you, Luke," Padme declared, determinedly. She walked over and plucked her son from Nava's lap, setting him domineeringly on her hip. Formidable, stern eyes swept over them. Force sensitive or not, Padme had the look of a general, and a Jedi.

Lux wondered if his eyes were as frightening. "We've been here too long. We've forgotten who we are. To tell you the truth, I'd rather live on _The Twilight_ than stay on this dirt planet. As long as we're together," she scoffed sincerely.

"I… don't really like the idea of going back to the life of a gang leader," Ahsoka confessed, softly. "Being a billionaire was boring," Nava yawned. Lux raised an eyebrow, jealous. "You were billionaires?" He demanded, skeptically.

"How in the great name of the force did you manage that?" Ahsoka added, with just as much disbelief. "They robbed _The National Bank of Courascant_," Anakin and Padme chimed in unison, deprecatingly.

"They _what_?" Obi-wan and his wife fixed their younger friends with looks that could kill. "Master!" Intrepid scolded in a gasp, eyes wide with shock, and underlined with amusement.

"What? It was Obi-wan's idea!" Nava indicted, pointing accusingly at Obi-wan, who scowled. "You all act as if you've never seen us rob something before," he pointed out, a bit irritably.

"Isn't robbing things our job?" Ahsoka asked Anakin, confusedly. He smiled and shook his head. "Obi-wan felt left out," he predicted. "Okay, okay, cut!"Intrepid called, waving her hands as if warding away the insistent hive of building dilemma's and back-stories.

"If Obi-wan and Nava are robbing banks, Anakin and Padme are getting divorce's, Leia is strangling people, Ahsoka is becoming a gang leader, Lux is deactivating bombs and I'm leading slave rebellions, then _we have got to GO_!" She shouted forcefully.

Her strong opinion banished the last slackening hold the Dark had on their minds, the whispers of _where will you go?_ vanished.

"I need to get back on the field, and I miss the clones," he agreed, straightening, defying the darkness in his heart. "I don't plan on staying here another minute more," Anakin settled sternly, chastising the Dark itself. "The council will have believed us all dead or captured," Obi-wan lamented. "It's time to go," Ahsoka specified.

"But where?" Nava wondered. "Though your idea is absolutely _splendid_ Padme, I don't think we want to live in the Twilight," Nava reminded them. "_The Resolute! The Resolute!" _The Twins voted, having heard so many stories about said ship that their dreams must be composed aboard that vessel.

"The Resolute goes into _battles_, my children," Anakin explained gently. "And I do not believe Admiral Yularen would like the idea of having children aboard his ship," he said ruefully.

"We could hide!" Luke insisted. "_Please_, fatha!" Leia scrambled to the edge of the speeder, staring at him with giant brown eyes, Anakin smiled and looked away quickly. "Blast it, Leia, you know I can't say no when you do that to me!" he grumbled lovingly. "She gets it from her father, I assure you," Obi-wan commented dryly.

Lux chuckled. "We need to go _somewhere_," he pointed out. "I've got it!" Anakin suddenly cried, snapping his fingers. All eyes swiveled to him. "Do you remember that Separatist spy satellite we attacked during the Clone Wars?" he asked Ahsoka. She scowled. "Which one?" She wondered.

Lux wondered just how many Separatist spy satellites they had hacked and destroyed in their career. He narrowed his eyes at them, considering the fact that they were, albeit, Anakin and Ahsoka…Too many to count, would be his immediate judgment.

"The one above the Rishi Maze," Anakin explained. Ahsoka nodded, eyes lighting with the memory.

"Didn't we just leave it sitting there…?" she asked. "In the middle of space, abandoned and doing absolutely nothing…" Anakin agreed, a slow grin smoothing his features. "You want to live on an abandoned Separatists spy satellite?" Padme asked skeptically.

"Why not? The thing is _huge,_ Padme, just as big as the mansions on Naboo," Anakin told her. Lux nodded in agreement. "They are, and if it could be fixed…" he debated. "We can fix it," Anakin and Ahsoka mentioned with a wave of the same hand.

"Then this conversation is finished. No need to elaborate. We're going to live in the satellite," Nava concluded before anyone could think long enough to tell Anakin what an obtuse idea it must be underneath the initial thought. Lux was glad they had time not to argue about it.

"Before we leave," Obi-wan said, after a relieved silence. They were staying _together_. "There are many loose ends I assume we all have need of tying up," he reminded them.

"He's right," Intrepid agreed. She smiled at Anakin. "Want to help me free some slaves?" she asked. Anakin snorted. "Why are you asking? Let's get it done," he said readily. Lux bit his bottom lip worriedly.

_A few loose ends to tie up indeed…_

* * *

~Dooku's POV~

How remarkably odd. The Jedi preached justice, mercy, and understanding, yet the corpse that Dooku watched droids carry away on a stretcher held no evidence of this. Dooku's gut did an unexpected twist when he saw the warped, scarred, badly burned skin of Vader's face.

No longer did the young Sith possess the handsome and young face of Anakin Skywalker. Now, his hair was gone, replaced by tuffs of still burning twine.

Both legs were gone, and the stumps had barely any skin that was not thoroughly _melted_ on them. The man was crying out, screaming with unbearable agony that made even the Dark Side quiver.

Dooku shivered, hands folded neatly behind his back. Behind him, Starkiller growled deep in his throat, infuriated and frightened. Dooku found the newest developments…Sickening. But intriguing. The Jedi were becoming something more…_Dangerous,_ in this war.

Sidious, at Dooku's side, hood cloaked over his features to hide them, agreed by the smile that spread slowly over his face. "Perfect," the master of evil chuckled. _"Perfect," _he murmured in madness, mostly to himself.

He did that often, murmured to himself. Dooku found the practice uncivilized, yet he had begun to notice he did it as well. Was he losing his wits?

"Now, Tyrannous," Sidious went on, now addressing him. Dooku listened carefully. When the dark master looked up at him, he felt a cold shiver run along his spine, and every hair stand on end. "Now we will have a_ true_ slave of the Dark," Sidious purred.

That look in his eyes; that sparkle it was not…Wasn't healthy, or normal. Dooku had never seen it before. He sincerely hoped it was not in his eyes as well. He did not want to lose his wits and have the dark only to shield him.

Force, what a way to live.

_Or_, he thought contemplatively, as the charred body was rolled into the ship, screaming and moaning still. His skin crawled as he saw a flash of shiny black suit in the background, standing menacingly on a rack, awaiting it's new body.

_What a way to die. _

* * *

I bet you all can imagine what Vader's going to look like next we see him. He is now a main character. Something I failed to mention last chapter, we all know that Ahsoka and Starkiller's relationship sort of borders on friendship/alliance, so I ask you, on Mustafar, do you guys _really_ think they fought each other?

~Queen Yoda


	54. All is well

**_Two days Later:_**

~Nava's POV~

Nava watched her apprentice carefully. Intrepid had grown-both in body and spirit-these past few months. Yet Nava noticed a shadow seemed to hang over her Padawan's heart, none more than as Intrepid spoke to her former group of fellow slaves.

Lux's cadets dragged the slavers away, all of whom were going kicking and screaming. Nava stood off to the side silently, lightsaber hung on her hip.

She crossed her arms and glanced about at the environment Intrepid had been living in, dull, dismal and generally hopeless in the force, this was not a place for Padawans.

Perhaps she ought to put in a recommendation with the council about that.

Sighing, Nava shifted to the other foot. Intrepid finished saying whatever it is was she had been walking about, and walked back over to Nava, eyes expressionless and mouth set into a grim line. Her eyes, though, never lied.

"Were they surprised at your change of décor?" Nava inquired, fingering Intrepid's freshly clean Jedi tunics and robe. Intrepid gave her a lopsided grin. "To be sure, master," she said merely, instead of whatever droll quip first came to mind.

Nava narrowed her eyes Hmm, well, discipline of the tongue had been learned through slavery's lessons, it seemed. Nava felt a tinge of sadness that such a thing had occurred; she had so loved her apprentice's humor.

"You seem sad to see them go," Nava noticed, as they stood apart from the joyous celebrations enjoyed by the liberated slaves. Or, those that were left. Nava could sense the force born stench of death here.

And it was attached to Intrepid, who shrugged. "I have made friends while in captivity; and the events that happened…After. I owe many of them my life," She said softly. Her eyes strayed to the cadets dragging away more of the slavers, in chains, ironically. Her eyes flickered.

"Then by extension so do I," they sat, letting the admission sink in. at last, Nava decided upon the direct approach. "I sense that there was mass murder here, and it is connected to you. The pain in your eyes is easily readable to those who know you, my young friend," she told her.

Intrepid smiled humorlessly. "Am I so transparent, master?" She asked. "Yes, which is why I'm going to warn you now not to change the subject," that got a more authentic grin.

Intrepid did not meet her eyes. "There was a rebellion I…Lead. I am the only survivor of that rebellion. They were all murdered before my eyes," she whispered softly.

Nava inhaled sharply. Intrepid had grown up in war, she had seen carnage and genocide, but it was so different when it was people you had known; people you had laughed besides.

When the face was unfamiliar, and the eyes showing none of their former emotion you never saw, the horror was less. But when you had known them, when it was _personal_…That was the ultimate test.

"You must not blame yourself," she knew Intrepid would. They all did. "I lead them master. I lead them there, and I let…" Intrepid silenced herself abruptly, instead pressing her mouth together tightly. Tears sparkled in her eyes. The force surged with pain.

Nava reached out, then pulled back. Intrepid was no longer a child. She was a woman, a Jedi, an adult. "You let…?" she encouraged softly, no more looking at Intrepid than Intrepid looked at her. When people looked at you, you felt the repulsion more acutely.

"I…I let En-lai go first. He…he was the one who betrayed our plan to Margo. I convinced Kane to let him go first, it was my decision, and I let him _sway _it. _I_ killed them," Intrepid whispered, and Nava heard the tears in her voice. The truth was unspoken.

_You loved this boy,_ she thought through the bond, which was still sore and musty from disuse. Intrepid nodded, lips locked together. Nava offered no comfort. "He betrayed more than just the rebellion then," she noticed.

"He…I told him, master. That I was Jedi. That was how Vader knew where to find us. I put all of you in danger. I have lost good people to my recklessness, and I could have lost you as well. If not for Cece and the others, I'd have been taken prisoner," she admitted shamefully, tearfully.

Nava inhaled sharply, anger flaring at the pain, the raw anguish in Intrepid's voice… She squashed it. Anger would do no good at all. "Do not feel shame, apprentice," Nava instructed.

Intrepid looked as if she were having a hard time standing. "I _trusted_ him…" She whispered brokenly. "And it was a mistake that cost lives. This is why Jedi cannot love. Love only brings pain," she spat. Nava shook her head, chuckling through her own tears.

"Oh, my child. My dear child, you do not understand. Did not that love give you joy?" she asked. "It was a false joy, undeserved and unshared," Intrepid replied bitterly. "No, Intrepid. It was real joy. Pain accompanies love, sneaking in through deceit. They always did say love is blind. Love does not bring pain; pain follows love. Just as the dark tries to exterminate light. Light does not bring darkness of its own accord; it is stalked by the shadows. As is love," She explained.

"I _trusted_ him," Intrepid repeated, this time with anger. "And he…He betrayed me. He left me to_ die;_ and all because he wanted to be a master, just like Margo. I told him everything; I loved him more than anything. I would have deserted the Jedi for that _traitor_…" Intrepid's entire body trembled with rage.

"No, you would have left the Jedi for love. An honorable cause; bred of light itself. You did not bring about the deaths of those people, Intrepid. He did; his own greed and selfishness. Even Jedi can be tricked. There is nothing you could have done," she tried to convince Intrepid quietly.

"I could have seen. Why didn't the force warn me?" Ah, the oft repeated question for Jedi. "The force is not a nursemaid. Perhaps this is a lesson you were in need of learning," Nava replied. "Or perhaps this was the only way we could all learn our lessons," she pondered.

"What do you mean?" Intrepid asked. "Think about it, Padawan. Had Vader not found us, we would have continued with our lives. All of us, until we forgot entirely what we truly were. We would all have fallen into the snare of an illusion woven by the Dark Side," She said, with a small smile of thanks that Vader_ had_ found them.

"So, really, you saved us, all of us, with your confession, and so did he," she pointed out this meager view. "Then why do I feel this pain still?" Intrepid choked.

Nava shrugged lightly. "Because you have not released it, dear. And to release the feeling into the force, you must face and accept it, so…" Nava waved pointedly as the cadets brought up a defeated young male with pitch-black hair. He looked up, and when his eyes met Intrepid's, she tensed.

"Go face and accept it, my friend. Or embrace your feelings of hate and pain, and allow him to have broken you," it was harsh. The indifference and matter of factuality in her voice.

Nava wished to storm forward and chop of that _boy's_ pretty head with her saber, he'd deserve it, that was for sure, but Intrepid did not need her protection any longer. She needed to face this alone.

As such, Nava had to restrain herself when Intrepid called the cadets to halt and walked forward, almost as if she were in a daze. On his knees, the boy looked up at Intrepid, eyes wide and desperate.

Intrepid knelt before him, and stared into his eyes for a long time, barely breathing. Nava held her own breath. Intrepid spoke a few words, which Nava did not hear, and without any external warning, her lightsaber's hilt was out and pushed against the boy's chest threateningly.

Nava inhaled sharply as he scrambled in strong arms, frantically trying to scramble away. As per usual for cowards, he began to sob, blubber and beg. How a man seemed to lose nerve when he was presented with death.

Nava saw Intrepid's hand tremble there, and the force gasped with tight indecision. Dark and light fought for control, wavered between claim of another servant. Nava waited patiently for its verdict.

At last, it came. _NO!_

That one pronouncement, radiated from Intrepid, rippled throughout the force. The dark's command went answered, and it slithered away in defeat, to torture another victim.

The light rushed in to embrace and congratulate its servant, to smooth balm over wounds, to snatch the emotions back into their depths. Intrepid exhaled, and it seemed to echo in Nava's mind. She grinned.

"Goodbye, En-lai. Live in peace," Intrepid said to her old love, as she stood and stacked her weapon of justice, her pen of peace's treaty back unto its rightful place on her belt, and turned to Nava. There were tears of pain running down her cheeks.

It would be hard in the start; Nava was sure that Intrepid would find peace and joy later. But for now; pain had a domain here.

Nava opened her arms, and despite the fact that Intrepid was a grown woman and not some child, she wasted no time in rushing into Nava's safe embrace.

* * *

~Lux's POV~

"You taught them well," Lux turned from his desk, which he had been slowly stroking fondly, almost longingly, to see Anakin leaning in the doorway. For some reason, the young knight had opted to come with Lux instead of slave freeing with Intrepid.

"Just like training rookies for the rebellion," Lux replied with a small smile. Anakin chuckled softly, eyes skimming his-and once General Damara's office- curiously. "Nice office. The only difference is all of these people are devoted to you, Lux. Half of them are in the cafeteria weeping right now," he informed him. Lux snorted; half embarrassed. He had been hoping they would not do that.

"They'll get over me in time. I've already put Maxell in charge. He's a good guy. He'll rid this entire city of crime in two weeks or less," Lux told him. Anakin nodded.

"You seemed to have done that yourself," he observed casually. Lux only shrugged and looked down at his desk pensively. Anakin studied him openly. "Will you miss them?" he asked, out of the blue.

"The cadets? Of course. They were an honor to teach," Lux replied, not looking up. "Then what is it?" Anakin asked again; he seemed to have a great abundance of questions.

"What makes you think something is wrong?" Lux wondered. "I never _said_ anything was wrong," Anakin pointed out, with a sly grin. Lux gave him a peculiar look. "You've been spending time with Obi-wan, haven't you?" He demanded rhetorically.

"Opinions may differ," Anakin agreed, cheerily. Then his face turned solemn. "Seriously though, Lux, I can sense the turmoil within you. Tell me," well, that was harder said than done, now wasn't it?

Lux had never really…Spoken to Anakin. Not like that. He had not had a true conversation with the Knight yet. And it was more than just a bit awkward to phrase the past few months into words for someone he barely knew beyond reputation.

"I…thought…I thought…I belonged here," he stammered at last, ashamedly. "After I lost my arm, I thought that was the last piece I was missing, the piece of the puzzle I had placed wrong. I felt so empty, and well….I wanted to be a king. To own this place, to feel as if the underground was my own little kingdom. I was born to be a king, you know. A prince. Before the Clone War messed things up…I thought if I was king, I wouldn't feel so…Lost," he shrugged, not looking Anakin in the eyes. Instead, he studied the glove over his mechanical arm.

Anakin did not speak for a long time. "Let me see it," the Jedi spoke at last. Lux looked up, startled, but Anakin gave him a rueful smile. "Hey, you know I won't judge you for it," he pointed out, and easily snatched off his own glove.

Lux's eyes wandered over the dull color of the metal extension casually. Somehow, it gave him the strength to tear his own glove off. It hurt slightly, and he winced. His stump was sore yet.

Anakin studied the gold arm thoughtfully, with no more revulsion or awkwardness than one would treat a normal arm. "You got a pure gold one," he pointed out at last.

"Who got you that? Gold is expensive. They wouldn't even get _me_ a gold one," he stated. Lux smiled bitterly to that. "The General before me. General Damara," with a sigh, Lux placed a hand on the desk and stared out the window once more.

"I should not have killed him," he muttered. "As far as I've heard, he was some sort of whack-job minion of Sidious's who was beating people with a pole," Anakin said, puzzled.

Lux snickered; that sounded about right. "Yeah, but still. He was an unarmed man. He was only running, and I killed him with his own weapon. I didn't feel a thing when I did," Lux reported, with a troubled sigh.

"Lux, the man was training people to become _Jedi killers_. Frankly, I owe you my thanks for killing him. I do think you should have felt something when you killed him, though. When you stop feeling, that is when you should worry," Lux nodded. "I didn't. After my arm…I didn't feel much," he reflected.

"Except that you wanted to have power, the power to stop the emptiness," Anakin corrected, without any anger, accusing or blame. "Not power, exactly, I don't think…" Lux contemplated.

"I…I just wanted to find out who I was. I felt like half a man without it, and I…I wanted to feel important, like my father, like a king," but that was not who he was destined to be.

"That," Anakin smacked sympathetically. "I understand," yes, well, Lux rather doubted a Jedi could feel any less important than Lux. They sat in silence, Lux feeling more alone than ever, despite the common ground between them. Anakin looked away, lips pursed and brow thundering.

"I felt that way, too," the Jedi whispered, so quietly Lux had to strain to hear him. "At first. I felt like…Like I wasn't good enough anymore. Like I was half the person I used to be, and that no one would want me, that I could not do anything because of it. Do you know what gave me strength?" He asked.

Lux shook his head. "A Jedi knight by the name of Garen Muln. I had known Garen a long time, he and Obi-wan grew up together as best friends. How, I have no clue, because Garen was _awesome_. Sort of like the crazy uncle who helped you go behind your dads back when he told you not to do something. He was one of the greatest pilots in the Order at the time, and a heck of a great swordsman. He actually taught me a lot of what I know now," Anakin sighed fondly, obviously remembering some memory Lux was not subject too.

"I idolized Garen for a long time, and respected him twice as much. So, a few weeks after Geonosis; and I had lost my arm, I accepted when he asked me to spar. I still think Obi-wan put him up to it," he grunted.

Lux nodded; more than likely Obi-wan had. "What happened?" He asked. "Did you beat him?" It was more of a rhetorical question. From the rumors, Lux had heard about Anakin at nineteen, he was sure Garen had been defeated.

"Not even close," Anakin guffawed. "He beat me three minutes into it. I was incredulous. No one, _no one_, Lux, had ever beaten me that quickly in a spar. Not even Yoda had done it, yet Garen had. At first, I thought it was because of my arm, but then he asked me if I wanted to know what trick he had used," of course, cheating, the curative solution.

"No, he didn't cheat. Not officially, anyway. Of course, I told him I did want to know what he had done, and to my astonishment, he showed me his arm. His _mechanical _arm," Lux turned, shocked. He had not been expecting that. "He had a fake arm, too?" he gasped. Anakin nodded; the awe in Lux's heart shown clearly in the smile he was wearing.

"Yep. It was old, rusty and looked like the Jedi had picked it up out of a junkyard. Nevertheless, he insisted it was what made him such a good Jedi. Then he told me _why_, which I was frankly wondering at the time. He had lost his arm defending a woman and her small daughter. When he finally got the woman and her daughter to safety, he discovered that he had been escorting the _queen and princess_ of that country. Garen realized that if the queen and Princess been killed, the entire country would have fallen into grief and chaos," Lux imagined so. Countries usually did grieve for their monarchs.

"He told me that the sparkle he saw in the kings eyes when he was thanked was the same sparkle he saw on his mechanical hand, and that gave him strength. It was not the capabilities or the hand, Lux; it was what it _stood_ for that gave him power, and strength. When I thought about it like that," Anakin shrugged and gazed down at his own hand tenderly.

"It seemed like he was right. I mean, Dooku chopped off my hand while I was defending Obi-wan. If I hadn't gotten there in time…" Anakin shook his head.

"Now, I'm proud to have it. I'm honored to wear this hand, and I did not feel lost or empty afterwards," he finished. Lux looked down at his own arm, his face reflected in it's shiny gold exterior_. "It was what it stood for…"_

Suddenly, he did not see a mechanical hand, he saw Maxell's grin, and heard Cent's laugh. He saw the cadets as they climbed the Wall and the doctor whom had saved his life. He saw the people he had saved, the_ good_ people who were alive because of him, and grinned.

_ This is my mark of honor, my reward for what I did,_ he thought. Lux looked up at Anakin, and his fists clenched. He was not empty, weak, or incomplete. Now he was strong. Strengthened by the lives he had saved, the sacrifice he had made. And self-sacrifice was trait of the Jedi. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled all of the emotions away.

He was free.

Anakin grinned back at him and pulled his glove back on. "Your parents would be proud of you, Lux," he said as Lux did the same. "You think so?" Lux asked, looking up. Anakin's eyes sparkled as he gazed at him.

There was something like affection in those depths. "I'm a father myself, remember? I do not think, I _know_. Now come on, hopefully we're not too late to help Intrepid free some slaves," he called, jerking his head towards the door.

Without a glance backwards, Lux ran after Anakin, and together, they went home.

* * *

~Obi-wan's POV~

"I don't understand, Osiris, why are you giving the company to me _now_? And why are we telling the media I paid handsomely for it when you aren't charging me a credit? Have you gone mad?" Were the continuing stream of questions from Tyrion as Obi-wan stepped out of his small office, flicking off the lights with a quick use of the force.

It felt good to let it wade around him again, freely, without hididng it. Matter of fact, everything at this moment felt good, including his eyes, free of contacts.

"I am afraid, my friend, that all of those require a very long and rather complicated story, best you be spared the details," he replied with a wave of his hand.

"A long and complicated….? Fine. Keep your secrets. But where are you and Anav even going? Don't tell me you're abandoning me with this lot of…Of…Billionaires!" Tyrion cried, thoroughly confused by Obi-wan's behavior, as they stopped outside of the small office. Obi-wan was eager to take off, though he betrayed non of his anxiety, it was not polite, after all.

"What's wrong with living with billionaires?' he asked innocently, inwardly chuckling. He would miss Tyrion, no qualms about that. "I can't have intellectual, philosophical conversation with any of them, that's what!" Was the frustrated answer, spoken none too quietly. The aides and employees about looked up, curious for gossip.

Obi-wan was touched by Tyrion's passion. He could sense that the other man was _genuinely _worried about him, if not his mental sanity, which Obi-wan was aware he had never possessed much of in the first place.

It was not often he found such loyal friends. He cherished them all. But he had a family that needed him, and though he'd never admit it, he needed them as well.

"I'm sure you'll manage to irritate one of them into a hot debate with words with more than three syllables," he soothed his friend compassionately. Tyrion's force signature showed he was on the very verge of throwing a tantrum.

Force, Obi-wan wondered if he should recommend this man for the Rebellion…No. let Tyrion live his own life for the moment. Time enough for that later.

"Tyrion," he put a hand on the other's shoulder. He had been to balls, dinners, dances, restaurants, business meetings and press coverage's with this man for the past few months.

They were a different sort of brother-in-arms. They were those intellectuals whose battlefield had little to do with conventional violence. "I have been grateful for your friendship these past few months. I enjoyed our conversations just as much, and I truly hope I am able to see you again, but…"

Obi-wan trailed off. He owed Tyrion the truth, or at least a piece of it, They were friends. He couldn't lie to his friends without blunder. Then again, everything was a poi t of view.

"Do you remember those children that came to visit a few weeks ago? I told you they were my niece and nephew. Anav couldn't get enough of showing them off," he smiled wanly, secretly reflecting just how much he loathed that name now.

It did not have the sparkling ring that Nava did; it did not hold any more appeal. It was a dead name, and a dead occupation.

They had found their ways again, and he was grateful. He had never been intended for this life; that was why the force had stationed him as Jedi. He should have known better than to enter into a game he would have played daily had he been allowed to remain on Stew-Jon.

"My wife will miss her, as well. But yes, I remember. Very polite children, they had been. What do they have to do with anything?" Tyrion said, his impatient tone masked by curiosity. "Much," Obi-wan admitted.

"They're father is my younger brother, I told you. I raised him after our father died. Then, well…The family just grew when he eloped with a woman from Naboo…and adopted a Togruta and the Togruta met a Separatist and then the Twi'lek teamed up with them, and then the twins came….Stars, Tyrion, it's a plain mess. But they're family. I realized that I must get back to them, or risk losing myself," he explained, as honestly as he could. Tyrion rubbed his temple as if Obi-wan had given him a migraine.

"Wait a minute now…who adopted a Togruta? And Separatists? Thw twi'lek went and eloped with Naboo and…What?" He asked, plainly befuddled. Obi-wan chuckled softly. "I have to make sure they don't get themselves killed," he summed up, simply.

Tyrion seemed relieved that Obi-wan had shortened the version. "Ah. I see. Matriarch. But why can't you run the company _and_ be the mediator? I've seen you multi-task, you're very good at it," Tyrion replied, still puzzled by Obi-wan's sudden disappearance.

Before Obi-wan could answer, though, a new voice broke into the fray obnoxiously, in one bold strike disabusing Tyrion of his concerns and questions. Obi-wan had missed how easily Anakin was able to do that.

"Master, why the kriff is there a man in the fresher holding towels? He keeps watching me, and I can't go pee with him studying the entire blasted procedure!" Anakin called out hotly, coming down the hall, too frustrated to note that he was now in full view of everyone with his tunic on and lightsaber unhidden. Obi-wan sighed as Tyrion and the others gawked. They'd have to mind-trick this moment out of a lot of people's heads.

"Anakin, I _told _you to wait in the speeder," he reminded his former protégé patiently, ignoring the eyes ogling at him. Since the secret was out, he spread his palm for his saber, hoping that Anakin had not touched it with his unwashed hands.

"Hey,_ you_ were taking too long and I had to go to the bathroom. But nothing will work if I'm being watched," Anakin peevishly informed him.

"I didn't need to know that," Obi-wan sighed, shaking his head as Anakin slapped his saber into his hand. "You….You're a…?" Tyrion gasped; his mouth closing and opening rapidly, as if he were gasping for air he did not feel coming in.

Obi-wan gave him a wry smile. "Jedi," he finished calmly. He did not necessarily care if Tyrion knew. He knew he could trust this man to secrecy, unlike Anakin with his too honest demeanor about everything including his fresher needs and incapabilites. Some part of him believed he should have told Tyrion a long while ago.

"Obi-wan Kenobi at your service. I have enjoyed your company, Tyrion, truly. I've not many friends that I trust, but you are counted among those few now," he assured his friend in case the thoughts he sensed jumbling in Tyrion's head came to fruition.

"But…But…" Tyrion stuttered. "Who are you?" Anakin demanded, interrupting Tyrion's spluttering with the single-minded jealousy he was known for.

"Does that dude with towels watch you pee too?" He asked, as if he intended to report it to someone if he did. "That's a rather personal question, Anakin…" Obi-wan began to chastise but Anakin was too hassled to care.

"Whatever, Obi-wan. All I'm saying is that he just stood there, didn't say anything or look down, no, he just_ stared_ at me. And why aren't there any stalls? I know you had enough money to afford some privacy in the fresher," he said. Obi-wan scoffed.

"_This_ is why I never take you anywhere where there are cultured people around. It's a wonder you married a diplomat, Anakin," he scoffed frankly.

For force sakes, did Anakin have to complain about this _here _and _now_? Couldn't he have it waited, and when he did complain could he have done it quietly?

"Force, I can understand attraction, but you know my bladder is sensitive to that sort of thing. If someone doesn't get him out of there, I'm going to pee on those nicely cut bushes outside and I hope they die," Anakin harrumphed, probably purposefully ignoring his discomfort.

Obi-wan couldn't help but chuckle softly. Anakin was lucky he had missed him or else he'd have a very large lecture on his hands about shameful incivility. "Ladies and gentlemen, Anakin Skywalker, The Hero With No Fear," he introduced to the rest of the room, sarcastically.

"I'm afraid of the fresher thanks to _you_," Anakin grumbled, looking around. Then, finally calmed down enough to notice his surroundings, he stopped and stared at the host of others also staring at him.

"When did they get there?" he gasped, the tips of his ears glowing pink. "They've been there. And I imagine the man holding towels was staring at you because you're a famous Jedi that randomly walked into the fresher," he explained.

This thought seemed to strike Anakin as ridiculous. "He still doesn't have to watch me," he mumbled. "It's a crime," Obi-wan agreed dryly.

Then, turning from Anakin to Tyrion, who was studying them curiously he could feel, he cocked a brow. "_Now _do you see why I have to go?" He asked softly.

Tyrion nodded, slowly. "If everyone in your family is like that, yes, I can see why," he responded, watching Anakin as he inconspicuously mind-tricked people into forgetting his presence. "One at a time," Obi-wan cautioned. "Yes, Master Yoda," Anakin said absent-mindedly.

"I can't believe I've spent the past few months keeping up conversations with a _Jedi_," Tyrion marveled, sounding distinctly impressed with himself. Obi-wan chuckled.

"Like I said, I enjoyed it. I hope I am able to see you again one day, my friend," he stretched his hand for a shake, and was gratified when Tyrion grabbed his hand warmly, without any hint of her-worship or fright.

Obi-wan very much hoped he would return one day. It was almost_ never_ when he met a person who cared for _him_, opposed to his title and influence.

"Take care of yourself, Tyrion," he said, as Anakin finished up. "And you," Tyrion nodded back. With a last smile, Obi-wan led a grumbling Master Skywalker out of the Thoth. Co headquarters and back into the Jedi's life.

* * *

~Ahsoka's POV~

_ "Justice is not betrayal,"_ Ventress, _Asajj Ventress,_ of all people had known that. Why had not she? Ahsoka had not only been drawn to the Dark Side, she had walked towards it, thinking that to do so was light.

How could she? Sitting in the warehouse, now empty of drug supplies and materials, Ahsoka felt incredible lonely. Hadn't she killed someone here? Was it bad that she could not remember whom?

"Well, Ahsoka, I am happy to tell you that you have associated yourself with the most vile scum this galaxy has yet to see," a teasing voice called. Ahsoka turned partially to smile at Padme.

"I'm glad there are still some authorities that we can turn these felons over too," Padme reflected. Ahsoka cringed, she had once been _leader_ of these scum. The queen bee of villains.

Padme noticed. "What's wrong?" She asked. Ahsoka sighed and turned away, arms crossed at the elbows. "I…Forgot what justice was," she admitted, softly.

Padme opened her mouth but Ahsoka went on, spurred by grief. "Padme…the things I've done. The people I've killed. I did it…Because I thought it was necessary to halt the distribution of drugs in this area but…But I was wrong. I was only doing it because I could, because there was no one to stop me," Ahsoka shivered. "Because there was no _reason_ to stop. That's _sick_, and betrayal. I've betrayed every teaching the Jedi Code has granted me," she mumbled.

Padme stared at her a moment, taken aback, but eventually nodded. "You know," Ahsoka felt a hand on her shoulder. "We all did. We all forgot who we were," she said. Ahsoka shook her head, suddenly very cold and very afraid.

"No, Padme, you don't _understand_. I did not just forget who I was; I _ignored_ it. I knew who I was, what is should do, what a Jedi would do…But I didn't o it, because there was no one around to force me to do it, and then tagged the excuse that it was for justice and a good cause. I lied to myself," she said.

The horror of this, to blame justice for her taking innocent lives, for the blood spilled on her behalf…

How could anyone forgive her for that?

For a length, Padme said nothing. Silence reigned, offering no forgiveness, no solace; she deserved nothing less. She did not deserve mercy, and yet she feared what would happen if she was not granted it.

Who would, though? How? "Yes, I think I do understand," Padme corrected quietly. Ahsoka felt the force shift.

She turned around to see Padme look away, tears in large brown eyes. Her friend seemed as afraid and cold as Ahsoka.

"You know when Leia said my baby died?" she asked in a whisper. Ahsoka nodded wordlessly. "Well, it wasn't Anakin's." Ahsoka, despite having been shocked and thrown at with grand, horrible revelations before, found that the most astonishing thing she had ever heard.

Padme noticed her speechlessness and sighed. "It was Jiro's. Anakin and I had been having a hard time, and well, Jiro was there to placate me. If only I had known then…." Padme let out a shuddering breath.

"Anyway, I had a miscarriage, and Anakin was there to comfort me. Ahsoka, I…I was so scared when I finally came back to my senses. Afraid he'd never forgive me, how could he? I had _betrayed_ him," with the full sense of the word, as well. Ahsoka felt deep sympathy for Padme, and at the same time an insane urge to slap her.

"I knew it was not right while I was doing it, I _knew_ what I was doing, but I ignored that. I ignored everything, Anakin, the twins…_everything_, because Jiro made me feel good, and I hid behind that. I used the excuse that Jiro made me feel better than Anakin could, or even thought to. I was such a fool; and even…" Padme covered her mouth, staring into the distance as if to keep the words at bay, as if to keep herself contained.

Ahsoka rather thought Padme could benefit from being uncontained.

"Even now sometimes I fear Anakin will change his mind and…And I won't be able to…I can't…I don't know what I'd…" She trailed off. Ahsoka understood anyway. "We betrayed everything," she whispered softly.

Padme looked up and nodded. She reached out a hand and Ahsoka grabbed it tightly between her own. Both sets of eyes gazed at each other with immeasurable guilt, incalculable pain. Years mattered not as their souls fled their bodies, seeking refuge in a nameless substance that welcomed them home.

The light did not promise perfect peace; but it did promise _something._ That something, important, magnificent and perfect, though was wordless. Quietly, without saying it aloud, they redeemed each other with mutual compassion, shared love and communion. They forgave each other, and all was well.

For the first time….All was well.

* * *

Well, this entire story was basically character development. I wanted you to get to know the characters in a more personal way, I wanted to isolate them and then pick them apart flaw by flaw. Sure, I also enjoy a bit of angst, I needed to get Vader into the picture, show you why this family _needs_ to be Jedi, and provide an ample example of where future anger rampages come from in the twins, but I really wanted to show the characters by themsleves, too. The defects of Obi-wan's blindness, Padme's selfishness, Anakin's naiveity, Intrepid's struggle to figure out love, Lux's inner hollowness, Nava's devotion, Ahsoka's who-am-I? escapade... I think I covered it. And don't worry, I promise no one else is getting divorced. Next chapter is the last, and I hope it does justice.

~Queen Yoda


	55. The Skywalkers

~Rex's POV~

"Looks like we have a lot of work to do, sir," Rex observed with a smile as Anakin walked unto bridge, his cloak billowing round his ankles. Rex had always wondered if that signified anything besides the fact that Skywalker walked fast.

Maybe it was a sign of his legendary power. Though, judging from Skywalker's expression, it leaned more towards him walking swiftly to see what he had declared would be his family's new home.

Even though they had grumbled under their breath, the clones had been so delighted at seeing their generals again after so long, they had agreed.

Seeing the massive structure now, however, Rex was beginning to wonder if he could talk the Jedi out of this one for the sake of all involved. How in the galaxy did any of them intend to fix _that_ giant hunk of nonsense?

Following on Anakin's heels, in a sweep of large and powerfully cloaked bodies came the rest of the family, and they masked over the bridge like the night sky blanketing the space around them. Rex looked back at the new adventure they'd been called to fix, called a giant top looking structure floating idly in space.

"It's pretty!" Leia squealed, pushing herself between her mother's legs to have a look. Rex wondered if she were staring at the same structure as he was. "Fatha, can I help fix it?" Luke added, joining his sister.

Rex crossed his arms and chuckled underneath his helmet. He had missed the little spitfires. Anakin spared him a pleased glance, obviously thinking the same. "We'll all help him, won't we squirts?" Rex called. Luke and Leia gave him giant grins and nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh dear, this is going to be problematic," Obi-wan sighed, though he did not sound like he minded much. Cody prodded himself through the line of family members quietly and rested on Rex's side, arms folded behind his back.

Rex nudged him with his elbow. Cody nudged him back, shared amusement flitting through the touch. It was good to have the Jedi back.

"Here we go again," Lux and Ahsoka agreed in unison. "Well," Padme rubbed her palms together and glanced about with a leviathan, impish grin. "Let's get to work, shall we?" She chirped, much too cheerfully to be any normal politician.

"I call Obi-wan's starfighter!" Nava declaimed, wasting no time with other small pleasantries, as they had work to do. She turned on her heel to run to the docking bay.

"Whee!" Luke and Leia squealed, chasing after her, free and wild as the wind. "You can_ have_ it!" Obi-wan replied in a droned chuckle, as the others followed their lively friend with the airs of elegant Jedi.

Rex chuckled softly; he was not fooled by their façade of calm. They were all just as thirsty for new adventures, and harder work, it was in their characters. That was why they would always survive; people like the Skywalker's.

"Just like old times, eh, Rex?" Cody asked, shaking his head at the juvenile Jedi family. "Yeah, Cody," Rex chuckled as the clones filed in behind their much missed generals.

"Just like old times."

**_ THE END_**

* * *

Thank you to all of my readers and reviwers who hung in there with me. I can't explain to you how much it means to me that I'm not writing for no reason. You guys _rock_! Next book in the chronicle coming out soon! Keep an out of for _"Jedi Legends; The Strength of the Sacrificed"_ which includes space battles, insanity, _more_ torture, and...Monkeys?

~Queen Yoda


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